


2020: The Broposal

by ClawR



Series: This Strange Eventful History [2]
Category: Lovely Little Losers, Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Minor Injuries, Music, a little angst at the beginning but mostly fluff, also there's some angst in the middle I suppose, canon compliant with everything but the BSN behind-the-scenes videos, no angst at the end, ridiculous people doing ridiculous things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7639747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClawR/pseuds/ClawR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's ready to propose, and he's enlisted his best bro to help him plan the big day. With Ben and Peter working together, what could possibly go wrong?</p><p>Sequel to "2016." Cowritten with marydebenham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2020: The Broposal

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I'd just like to say that marydebenham is always talking about how I make things angsty, but this fic was supposed to be a ridiculous, funny, fluff-fest, and _she's_ the one who brought angst into it. (It's still pretty fluffy, though, all things considered.)
> 
> Also, we did the best research we could, but neither of us is a particular expert on New Zealand politics or education, so the aspects of this fic that deal with those subjects are, inevitably, inaccurate. If that's likely to bother you, you might want to skip this fic (or at least skip to the part that doesn't have anything to do with politics).

As a child, Peter had never put too much thought into how he might one day propose to someone. He had always assumed, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he would, and he had a vague picture of himself on one knee, proffering a diamond ring to an equally vague fiancé. But he’d never lingered over the image, never tried to put himself in the place of his future, engaged self.

If he had, though, he’d probably have imagined that when he finally took the plunge, it would be because of all of the good times. All the fun he had with his partner, all the sweet, caring moments.

Peter knew himself a little better now, so he wasn’t surprised that it was not the good times, but the bad ones, that made up his mind.

Not that the last five years had been bad. Peter and Balthazar were a pretty damn good couple, if you asked Peter (or if you didn’t ask, but happened to be in earshot when he was in an effusive mood). They looked out for each other, they loved each other, they made each other laugh. Every day that had Balthazar in it was better for it, and Peter was sure Balth felt the same way about him.

But they had moments of doubt like any other couple, fights that they returned to regularly, problems that were a theme in their lives together. Even now, after all this time together as a unit, as a _team_ , a few issues lingered. Perhaps they would always fight about these particular things.

Peter knew that his constant need to _fix_ things drove Balthazar crazy. Often, Balthazar just wanted to vent about work, or their friends, or that stupid leaky faucet that they had already hired three different contractors to fix, and have Peter make sympathetic noises. But Peter would want to jump in: to make suggestions about how to organize the other teachers to fight a situation with the school’s headmistress, to call Bea himself and explain that Balthazar couldn’t talk her through another crisis with Ben when he had school in the morning, to suggest they find a lawyer to sue the latest contractor. And then somehow or other it would dissolve into a bickering match between Balthazar and Peter, when all Balthazar had really wanted in the first place was for Peter to bring him a cup of tea and snuggle on the couch while Balthazar moaned for a few minutes about how stupid life could be. Peter _knew_ this, but found it hard to stop himself. It always seemed like there was something that could be done to fix the problem, and all Peter wanted to do in the world was fix all of Balthazar’s problems. Well, all of Balthazar’s problems and all of the world’s problems. But Balthazar’s issues seemed easier to fix than homelessness, an overloaded foster care system, or employment discrimination.

Peter also knew that he could be snippy, particularly when he was tired or stressed about work. Getting to go into his job every day at the Ministry of Social Development was a dream come true; he spent his life and earned his living trying to make his country a better place for those who had the least. But it could be stressful and exhausting and emotional, and often the politics of the place frustrated him. Sometimes, it seemed impossible to get an MP, or a coworker, or even his boss to _care_ about something that was obviously vital to the lives of women and children, or minorities, or the poor. Peter always cared, and it was hard for him to understand how others could sit by and see the statistics, see the photographs, hear the stories, and not want to _do_ something about it. On those days, he came home on edge and found it difficult to settle. He was pretty good about not taking it out on Balthazar. He’d find other ways to release his frustration, like going for a run, or slamming about the kitchen making comfort food, or typing away at the book he had been writing since his year in London. But some days, he’d come home and he’d be tired and frustrated, and they’d have to go somewhere—to a dinner at Freddie’s flat, or out for drinks with Balthazar’s co-workers, or worst of all, to a party Vegan Fred was hosting, often for some disgustingly commendable charitable purpose. And on those nights, Peter often found himself reverting to the snippy and brooding version of himself, making little barbs throughout the evening, and always the worst at Vegan Fred. Balthazar would have to make the rounds apologizing for Peter’s remarks, explaining away his partner’s harsh words with stress or exhaustion, soothing ruffled feathers. And Peter _hated_ being apologized for, and also hated that there was a need to apologize at all because of his own bad behavior, and those nights usually ended with heated exchanges back in their own flat, with Peter demanding that Balthazar stop taking on responsibility for Peter’s actions, and with Balthazar hissing that he might not have to if Peter didn’t feel the need to offend all of their friends and their friend’s friends. Those nights did, at least, seem to be getting rarer with time. Peter was getting better at controlling himself in those types of situations, and Balthazar had repeatedly reminded him that it was okay to bow out of most of those social functions when he didn’t feel up to it.

Not that Peter was the only one who ever caused problems in the relationship. Sometimes it seemed like Balthazar simply couldn’t say the word “no.” It was like it didn’t exist in his particular Balthazarian vocabulary. Balthazar was a caretaker by nature, and Peter loved that about him. It was what made him good with children, and the friend that everyone could rely on. It made him a wonderful boyfriend and generous to a fault. It was the “to a fault” part that sometimes became problematic.

For instance, by the time Peter and Balthazar hit their first anniversary, their relationship was incredibly solid. They had issues like any other couple, but they were grounded. They understood each other, and they had an unspoken pact to never bring any unnecessary drama into their relationship. (Although Peter was free to bring drama into any other area of his life, and often exercised that right.) And although their friends would never stop loudly ribbing them over the dramatic origins of their romance, Peter knew that even Bea and Ben recognized that that wasn’t representative of their current relationship. The reason he knew that was that Bea and Ben (and more rarely, Freddie, Kit, and even Meg) sought them out for advice on their own relationship issues. Which was great, but did Beatrice really have to call Balthazar at 4 a.m. swearing that she was never going to speak to “the Dick” again? Particularly when she and Ben were invariably back to being Team Blessed by the time Peter and Balthazar spoke to them again the next evening? And did Meg really need to spend a week in their guest room moaning about breaking up with her long-distance boyfriend from South Africa who she’d only been dating for three months, while Balthazar scurried about making cups of tea and patting her hair fondly? And was it really _strictly necessary_ that Kit move into their flat for three months earlier this year while he and Freddie contemplated whether living together was in their (to quote Kit quoting Freddie) “individual and joint best interests at the moment”?

Sometimes Peter lost it, like the time he plucked the phone from Balthazar’s hands in the early hours of the morning and hung up on Benedick, who was mid-sentence in an ongoing and never-ending complaint about Bea's refusal to allow him to propose until she completed law school. That had earned him a glare from Balthazar that would have been truly frightening, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Peter could barely see it through his own sleep-encrusted eyes. “Enough,” Peter had said. “Sometimes they just have to work things out for themselves. And you have to get up for school in two hours.”

Despite what Balthazar sometimes said, Peter didn’t think he was trying to control Balthazar’s choices. He thought he was trying to keep their friends from rolling over Balthazar as a result of his own good nature and inability to set boundaries. And things had worked out well, that time, after a short argument. Balthazar had agreed that he would turn his phone on silent during the night, and Peter had agreed that he wouldn’t hang up on their friends anymore. Peter had explained that he worried that Balthazar would give so much of himself that there wouldn’t be anything left for just Balth, and Balthazar had explained that Peter was welcome to give his input, but couldn’t set Balthazar’s boundaries _for_ him.

But not all of their fights ended in explanations or compromise. That was the other problem. Peter and Balthazar fought on occasion. Obviously, they fought; they were a long-term couple living together, and issues would pop up. Some of the fights were about nothing: who left the milk out to spoil, who got priority for the shower on weekdays they both had to be in to work early, that time both of them invited a friend to use their spare room on the same weekend. Other fights were bigger: Peter’s inability to truly get along with Vegan Fred, whether to move out of the shared flat in their third year in Wellington and get their own separate flat, and the petty but unbelievably stressful fights they’d had _during_ the moving process. It wasn’t the fighting itself that was the problem; Peter had learned, over years of watching his friends get together and live together and occasionally break up, that all couples fought. The problem was that when the fights got really bad, when they most needed to hash it all out, Balthazar would simply shut down. It drove Peter mad. They’d be standing across the room from each other, yelling about whatever the current issue was, and suddenly a curtain would draw across Balthazar’s eyes. He’d fold his arms and hunch down a little. Sometimes he’d walk out of the room. And then there was nothing Peter could do to re-open the topic. Balthazar would just refuse to engage in it. Balth could live in silence for days, if need be, and that was a situation Peter found intolerable.

He’d never quite figured out what it was that made Balthazar fear confrontation so much. Peter could enjoy a good fight, really sink his teeth into getting his position out there, airing out the differences between himself and his sparring partner, and then move on with his day, often happier than he was before the argument. Balthazar was the exact opposite. He found fighting distressing, and when he fought with anyone—be it Peter, his boss, his co-workers, or his friends—Peter often found him in bed, with puffy eyes and a washcloth over his face, nursing a migraine. Throughout their years together as a couple, Balthazar had gotten better. Small spats didn’t send him away from their flat for hours, and the days of silence were rare now. But big fights—fights that took up a lot of energy or were about something really important—could still send Balthazar into shutdown mode immediately.

But they’d found workarounds. It wasn’t always successful, but if a major issue came up, they would try taking a few hours alone to think through their position, and then come together in a shared space and talk it through quietly. That was one rule in their household: If the issue was serious enough, it had to be discussed in quiet tones, otherwise they would take another break.

The fights themselves never worried Peter. He and Balthazar were in this for the long haul. There was absolutely nothing that would make them give up on this relationship – he was secure in that now, having survived the clumsy first year of their relationship, their time apart during their OE, and living together, off and on, for six years. He thought Balthazar worried about it a little less too, as time went on.

There had only been one time that they had ever come close to breaking up. In their third year at uni, after a lot of tense conversation, Peter and Balthazar had decided to move out of the flat into their own place. The reasons behind the tension had been complicated. Kit and Freddie had broken up, and although the breakup had been amicable, Kit had moved out. Balthazar had felt guilty about staying in the flat, for some reason he knew was both irrational and difficult to explain. Peter had felt bad about the idea of leaving Freddie and Hero alone on the lease, having to fill two empty housemate spots in Freddie’s last year at school. And the idea of giving up his home base, the status quo that had seen him through the past two years, was terrifying for Peter—while for once, it was Balthazar who was convinced that this was the right time to push, and try to see how a relationship would look like between them without any buffers. But after some long conversations with Freddie and Hero, they had decided to give up the flat on the hill altogether, so that Freddie could find a place that she could afford to live alone in peace for her final year, and so that Balth and Peter could try living as a couple alone. Hero had made some good friends outside of the flat, and a few of them were more than happy to welcome her cheery presence into their flat for the next school year.

And after all that stress, it had turned out to be a great decision. If anything, their relationship had gotten better. Everything had seemed easy. They’d both had busy, full lives. Peter had became heavily involved with setting up a Wellington offshoot of an LGBTQ youth organization. That had led to work with the youth division of the Labour Party and helping with local MP campaigns. Peter had reduced his role in Costa’s theatre troupe, helping with publicity and backstage work instead of acting, and dived into politics with a passion. Balthazar had had his open mic nights with Paige, and study sessions with Kit, and work. And both of them still had their classes. But in the evenings, they would come together and share their respective days, and on the weekends, they would spend time with their friends as a group, and everything was good.

But then fourth year happened.

It began thoughtlessly, on a lazy Sunday in bed. Peter had his chin propped in his hand and was stroking Balthazar’s arm, as Balthazar dropped in and out of a cat nap. Some low-key hipster band Balthazar loved was playing softly.

Peter had been babbling about his work with the Labour Party and getting involved with politics overseas during his OE year, when he casually said, “And, I feel like, if I really work at it, maybe I can run for MP before I’m thirty.”

Suddenly, Balthazar was wide awake and sitting up in the bed.

“You want to do what?”

Peter was startled. It was rare that Balthazar put so much force into his words.

“Run for MP? I feel like… that’s where I can make a real difference, you know? Actually change things.”

“Wait. What? I mean, I know you’ve been really getting into the whole politics thing, and you know I support that, I do. It might not be my thing, but what you’ve been doing with Rainbow Youth, it’s great. It really is. And I love that you’re so passionate about making things better. But you’ve never said anything about running for office. I figured you’d, I don’t know. Work for an NGO or something. Or start a group. Or work for a non-profit. Or maybe even get a job at a Ministry. But you’ve never said a word about running for office.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it for a while, I guess. But it didn’t seem like a real thing that someone like me could actually, like, do, you know? But you remember how Freddie’s aunt set me up with a meeting with that woman at Labour? She said that I’m the kind of person they look for. Someone they can work with while I’m in university, and then help shape a campaign early, and I don’t know… it seemed possible, all of a sudden. And I want it. I really do.”

This was the first time Peter had said that out loud, and it was only now, with the words out in the open, that he realized how true it was. Now that the possibility of running for office seemed real and tangible, he _wanted_ it.

But Balthazar was staring at him with something that looked a lot like horror.

“Is that a problem?” Peter asked.

It took a long time for Balthazar to answer, but when he did, it was more concisely than Peter would’ve imagined. “Yeah. I think it might be.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s so public, Pete. You’d be in the news, and people would take pictures, and I… I don’t want that. And it would never end, would it? If you ran and you actually won, it would just be more of that, for years.” He shook his head. “Look, it’s fine, let’s just talk about something else, okay?”

Peter let the subject drop. He hoped that Balthazar might come around with a little time to think on things; in retrospect, he realized that Balthazar was hoping that running for office would turn out to be a passing fancy.

Neither of them got what they hoped for. Peter’s desire, once ignited, never faded away. He wanted it so badly, it was always on his mind, even just if in the background. He started making choices about his life, his activities, his schooling, that would best lend itself to a future run at office one day.

And Balthazar’s response remained the same. He had no interest in a public life. He didn’t want people taking pictures of him, he didn’t want to be interviewed as the candidate’s boyfriend. He didn’t want to attend ribbon cutting ceremonies or political soiree,s and he had absolutely no interest in the media, or anyone else, poking around his or his family’s life. He didn’t want to talk about coming out as a high school student, or what it meant to be a gay man in modern New Zealand, or how he felt about political issues of the day. He wanted to make music. He wanted to teach. And he wanted to do it _privately_.

They went around and around about it for months. They weren’t _fighting_ , exactly. There weren’t a lot of raised voices, and in between discussions, things would return to normal and they’d be happy. But it was always in the background, always a careless comment away from another tense discussion, until finally they hit a breaking point just before mid-semester break.

Peter would remember it vividly for the rest of his life—never more so than the day, a few years in the future, when he would make up his mind to propose. They were in their small living room, and for once, there were no distractions. No music playing, no guitar or ukulele in Balthazar’s hands, no hum of the television in the background, no friends popping in and out of their kitchen. It was just them, sitting on their couch together, trying to figure out if they could make this work.

“I just don’t understand, Balth. I’m not asking _you_ to run for office. I’m not even asking you to help _me_ run for office. I’m just asking that, if in the future everything works out and I get a chance to run for MP, that you be willing to be with me while I do it.”

“Peter, I know that. But I’m not stupid. If you’re dating someone who’s running for office, your life becomes an open book. I’ll get questions from the media. People will ask me for interviews, or they’ll talk about what I say and what I do, and I just don’t want to worry about that stuff. And Peter, I don’t think about this type of thing. I don’t have an opinion on the Commonwealth. I don’t have some vision of how to fix gay rights. I have nothing to say. And I don’t want to feel like I have to say anything at all.”

“So don’t.” Peter shrugged. “You can just be off-limits. Or you can talk about things you care about. You don’t have to be my mouthpiece.”

“You don’t get it, Pete. I don’t want to talk about things I care about. Not in front of a camera. I’m just not interested in doing it. I’ve had enough of my life on public display, and I don’t want it anymore. Even if I say nothing, even if I never attend a single event with you, I’ll still be someone people will talk about. ‘Cause they’ll talk about _you_ , and your life, and I’m part of that, and I don’t want my mum showing a reporter a picture of me with a bad haircut at thirteen. I just want to live my life. I know things can’t be easy all the time, but this would be hard all the time, wouldn’t it? I don’t want a harder life than I have to live, Peter.”

Peter sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know what to say. I love you. You know how much I love you. I’m not great at keeping that a secret.”

They both laughed a little. Peter had a tendency to be over the top, in his declarations of love. It was like once the floodgate opened, he couldn’t help himself. Sometimes they’d be out at a club with their friends and Peter would simply loudly declare to anyone within hearing distance that he was madly in love. It never failed to make Balthazar blush.

But it wasn’t enough right now, was it? Peter sighed. “I _need_ to do this. If it’s even possible, I have to try. My whole life, I’ve always been running toward something in my mind. I’ve always felt like I need to fix things, to _do_ something. And I think this is it. This is what I can do.”

“I know,” Balthazar’s voice dropped, and he placed his hand, palm up, in the middle of the couch. Peter reached over and took it. “And I’d never want to stop you. I’d never want to hold you back. You could make a real difference. If you do this, you’ll be great. It’ll make you so happy, and that’s all I want.”

“So, what are we even talking about then? This is years off, Balthazar. It might not even happen. And if it does, it doesn’t have to change your life.”

Balthazar smiled a little. “Pete. If you’ve decided this is going to happen, it will. And I can’t… I can’t be with you for years, and then have it end because you decide to run for MP one day. I can’t have an expiration clock on this relationship.”

Peter looked strained. “An expiration clock? Balthazar, what are you talking about?”

“Pete, if I can’t live this way, it’s not going to change in three years, or five, or ten, or whenever this ends up happening. If I can’t do it, I can’t do it. And I if I can’t do it, we need to …. Well, we need to end this now. Not then.”

“End this?”

“Peter, what did you think we were talking about? This is an enormous decision. It’s basically what our lives are going to look like for the next thirty years. Until you retire or the voters get sick of you.”

“But why can’t we just be, until then?”

“You know why.”

Peter drew his hand back and put his face in his palms. “So, what? You’re breaking up with me because I might, at some point, want to run for office at some undefined time in the future?”

“I’m not breaking up with you.” Balthazar shook his head. “I’m saying we need to take some time to make sure our pictures of the future look the same. Or at least close enough to compromise.”

“What does that mean?”

“I think it means that I’m going to go stay at my parents over break. And you can… you can stay here, or go stay with yours. And we should take some time. To think. About everything. And just… see where we are after that.”

“I don’t need to think. I want this, but I want you more. If that’s what this is, I choose you. I always choose you, first, over everything.”

“No.” Balthazar was firm. “No, I guess when I say that we need to think, I mean that I do. I need to see if I can figure out any way to make your future plans fit into my vision of a future. Because I’m not staying with you and holding you back from something I know you really want. I think you need this.  I don’t get it, like, at all, but I think you need this, and I’m not taking that away from you. That’s just. It’s a recipe for resentment and unhappiness.”

“So I don’t even get a say?”

“Of course you get a say. You always get a say. But you don’t get to self-sacrifice to the point where we’re both miserable. And you don’t get to decide if I can live my life as a politician’s partner.”

“So are we even going to talk, or…”

“Peter, of course we’ll talk. We can talk on the phone, we can text, we can Skype. If you’re home in Auckland with your parents, we can meet for coffee every day. I just need a little space. I need to not be living with you while I’m making this decision. I need a clear head.”

It was the most miserable two weeks Peter had had since his first year at university. He stayed in Wellington, throwing himself into projects. Balthazar went home and spent time with his family. Peter never found out exactly who Balthazar had talked to about the situation, if he had talked to anyone, although he seemed to spend a lot of time with Bea and his mum while he was home. When Peter wasn’t working, he spent a lot of nights at the bar with Jaquie, often barely drinking, but finding comfort in her wry comments about the other patrons. Jaquie repeatedly assured him that “the shrimpy guy”—her preferred pet name for Balthazar—would come around, but Peter wasn’t so sure. Meg obviously knew about their issues somehow, because she showed up randomly on his doorstep at least three times over those two weeks with coffee and baked goods. It made him feel like he and Balthazar had already broken up, but he didn’t say so to Meg. Good-natured grumbling was one of the bedrocks of their friendship, but Peter made it a point never to complain about her more sincere moments.

By the time Balthazar returned to Wellington and their flat, Peter felt like the date for his execution had been set and now all that was left to do was carry out the sentence. He spent the whole time Balthazar was driving back to Wellington cracking his knuckles in stress. By the time Balthazar walked in the door, they weren’t even cracking anymore, but he was going through the motions anyway, pulling silently at his fingers. Luckily, Balthazar wasted no time in telling him his decision. Later, when he was capable of thinking at all, Peter thought he must have rehearsed it in the car.

“Okay,” Balthazar said. “Okay. So, you’re going to run for MP. That’s great. Probably you’ll end up Prime Minister. Okay, fine. I can live with that. I can live with being your partner throughout that. But these are the rules. I don’t give interviews. I don’t do photo ops. Anyone who approaches my family or friends, or god, my ex-boyfriends, doesn’t get any access to interviews with _you_. I’m not going to campaign rallies. I will do one Labour dinner per year. You can talk about me, but only because I know you kind of have to, and only about things we’ve agreed to first. I’m not introducing you at events. I’m not doing public charity events. I’m not giving up my job to support you. If I so much as see my name on Twitter or YouTube, I’m running for the hills. And no one tells me how I get to live my life. Not you, not a PR person. No one.” After that, he seemed to run out of steam. “Okay?”

Peter grinned. He got to have Balthazar _and_ he got to pursue the career of his dreams? There were absolutely no terms and conditions he wouldn’t agree to in order to have that life.

“Yes, okay. Okay! Yes, to all of that. Absolutely. Yes.” And then Peter grabbed Balthazar and kissed him like they’d been apart for months, rather than weeks.

Balthazar turned bright red. Peter thought it was charming that after all these years together, he could still make Balthy turn that color.

“Right, but… but, there’s still some things we need to, need to discuss,” Balthazar stammered.

“Yes, absolutely,” Peter said, kissing his way down Balthazar’s neck. “Tomorrow?”

“Um… nah. No, we really should…”

Peter nodded. “Yes. Of course. Tomorrow.”

Balthazar conceded that tomorrow had its merits, and so it was the next morning that they sat down for further discussion over breakfast. Peter had succumbed to his happiness at having Balthazar home, and so instead of making eggs, bacon, and toast, he’d made tofu scramble, soy bacon, and toast. He wasn’t sure how much of it he could actually stomach beyond the toast, but he was determined that if Balthazar was going to make such a huge sacrifice for Peter’s career, Peter could at least try to eat vegetarian. When he was at home, anyway. Maybe just on weekends. Whatever, he’d _try_.

“So, what else did you want to talk about?” Peter asked. He snaked his foot around Balthazar’s ankle underneath the table.

Balthazar set down his fork, smiling at Peter, a little crinkle forming around his eyes. Then his face became slightly more solemn. “The videos, Pete. We need to talk about the videos.”

Peter set down his own fork. The tofu scramble he’d managed to choke down settled in his stomach like a lead weight. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” There was silence for a minute. “We have to take them down.”

“Yeah, but…” Peter trailed off. There was a _lot_ in those videos that could torpedo a budding political career. On the other hand, taking them down… “It makes it seem like I have something to hide.”

“We _do_ have something to hide.”

“No, but we can’t make it seem like we do. I mean, so people see me drinking a little too much, and enjoying having sex. I was nineteen. It’s understandable.”

“That’s not the part I’m talking about, Pete. There’s a lot of things in those videos that I don’t really want to relive, to have to hear you talk about. And I hate… well, I hate the idea of a lot of those moments being public property. But I thought about it a lot over break, and I guess I can live with it. We were stupid teenagers, who were terrible with feelings and communication and hormones, and like… I don’t really like thinking about that time, but I’m not ashamed, I suppose. But I still think it could hurt you.”

Peter broke one of his soy bacon strips in half, and then in half again, pushing the pieces across his plate. “I mean, I’m no expert yet, but it’s a YouTube channel with my _name_ on it. And some of those videos have, like, thousands of views. I’m pretty sure if we just take it down, people will notice eventually. And whatever they think I’m trying to hide, it will be worse than what it actually was.”

“Okay, and I can live with those videos staying up. I’m not happy about it exactly, but I can deal. Like I said, I’m not ashamed.”

“I really don’t think _you_ had anything to be ashamed of that year.”

Balthazar held up a hand. “I’m not going down that path again. We’ve had that conversation a few too many times. But Pete, the videos from year 13? Those _have_ to go. I’m not a political operative, I don’t know, like, grand political strategy, but I know they have to go.”

“But they’re not my videos.”

“If we ask, Ursula and Bea and Ben will all take their videos down. I’m sure of it. I already ran it by them when I was in Auckland.”

“You _did_?”

“I needed to know if it was possible. They’re just waiting for the word from us. And then we all need to talk about our story. Why they were taken down, what was in them. What happened that year. We all need to be on the same page, just in case someone has a random video saved or something.”

“What…” Peter was at a loss for words.

“Bea and I talked about it. We figure that explaining the videos coming down would be easy. It can’t be linked to you, because they’re not your videos. They’ll all just say they were stupid videos from high school that they didn’t want living on forever on the internet. If anyone hooks into the Hero story, we’ll just brush it off. Say it was a high school fight between a boyfriend and girlfriend over a misunderstanding. Stupid kid stuff. Which is the _truth_ , Peter.” Balthazar frowned at the closed-down look on Peter’s face. “It’s only you and the videos that make it look like such a big deal.”

“I can’t… I can’t ask Hero to lie about that.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake, Peter. She’s already agreed. She was at the meeting with me and Bea and Ben and Ursula.”

“There was a _meeting_?”

“Some of us are taking your political future seriously.”

Peter shook his head. “My god.”

“And when we’re all in Auckland this summer, we’re going to have another one. With _everyone_.” He looked at Peter. “Even Claudio. And we’re all going to get on the same page.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be involved in any of the political stuff.”

“I don’t. But those videos aren’t just about you. I’m sure that Hero doesn’t want what happened out there to all of New Zealand, and neither does Claudio. Which reminds me, before I forget, we need to make sure everyone in the Wellington videos is okay with those staying online.” Balthazar rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Listen, I don’t want to be incredibly involved in this thing. But I also don’t want to live through some stupid political scandal that lasts for a day but hurts our friends, and makes you return to broody, mopey Peter for a year.”

Peter corralled the remains of his soy bacon into a little pile. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Balth.”

“Peter.” Balthazar took his hand. “This is going to be hard. There’s going to be all sorts of shit that comes with the videos on your own page, and your sexuality probably, and the fact that we have surrounded ourselves with some of the most ridiculous people in the world. Like, can you imagine what’s going to happen when Freddie endorses you? Chaos. It’s going to be chaos. We don’t need this to be any harder than it’s already going to be. And now is the time to get ahead of this, so that in ten years, we have a plan and those videos have been gone for a decade.”

The idea of deleting any of the videos still felt wrong to Peter—like he was lying about who he was—but he had to concede that Balthazar had a point. “Are you sure you don’t want to be my campaign manager?”

“I’m about a billion percent sure. Ask Freddie, though. I think she’d be all over that.”

After that conversation, it was clear to Peter that he was going to marry Balthazar. They had a plan and a vision for the future they could both live with, and nothing made Peter happier than coming home to Balthazar at the end of the day. It was more a question of when than if.

He thought about doing it several times. At first, he’d thought maybe just after graduation, but things were going to be chaotic for the next year. Peter and Balthazar were both going on their OEs. Peter had an internship in London with an organization that worked on policy related to women’s and refugee issues. Balthazar was going to use Peter’s flat in London as a home base for the year, but planned to travel to various locations all over the world to learn about and experience different indigenous music; he had ended up everywhere from Nashville to San Francisco to Tokyo to Nairobi to Belfast. It hadn’t seemed like the right time to add a proposal to the mix.

Then Peter considered just proposing when they moved back to New Zealand, but they were both looking for jobs in Wellington while staying on Freddie’s pull-out couch. Nothing seemed settled enough. He had, however, secretly bought Balthazar a ring when they signed the mortgage papers on their house. He had thought perhaps he should do it on their first night in their new shared home. But they were both so exhausted from moving, settling in to new jobs and new responsibilities, figuring out how to be homeowners, and adults, and professionals. That didn’t seem like the right time either, so he hid the ring in his dresser, waiting for the right moment to make itself clear.

It did so on an unremarkable September day, about a year after Peter hid the ring away.

Life was happy for Peter and for Balthazar. Peter loved his job and felt like it gave him a way to do good in the world, even if sometimes he yearned for a way to do more. Balthazar took great joy in teaching a love of music to children, and found plenty of time on weekends and holiday breaks to work on his own music. He was even contemplating self-publishing an EP. They had a nice, if small, home in Wellington, and Peter had felt only the slightest twinges of panic when signing the mortgage papers on it, holding Balthazar’s hand tightly the whole time. Sometimes they talked about getting a dog. They spent their spare time at trivia night at Freddie and Kit’s flat, getting dinner and drinks with Meg, and Skyping regularly with Bea and Ben, who were living in Auckland, and with Costa and Jaquie, who had neighboring flats in London. They slept in on Sundays. Balthazar tried out new vegan recipes, which often bordered on inedible because of his creative ingredient swaps, and they laughed when they had to throw the whole meal out and bring in curry instead. They went to hipster concerts, to blockbuster movies, and to any play that couldn’t be described as “avant garde.” They watched Netflix and went for walks. They had regular bi-monthly tennis dates with Paige and Chelsey, who had already been married for over a year. They had separate lives too. Balthazar and Kit spent a lot of time together, getting coffee, working out song lyrics, occasionally taking random road trips to the countryside when Peter was particularly busy at work; while Peter had made friends with some of his co-workers at the Ministry and would regularly meet to kick around a soccer ball or get a few beers.

It was a good life, and Peter might happily have lived it exactly as it was for several more years. But that wasn’t what happened. Instead, on a slightly chilly and overcast day in September, Peter received a phone call and he knew his life was about to change.

He didn’t say anything to Balthazar at first; he wanted confirmation that it meant what he thought it meant, before worrying Balth. He just called home, said that a meeting had come up and not to wait for dinner, and at 5:30 hurried across town to the rather plain office building where he was to meet the man on the other end of the phone call. By the time he left a few hours later, he knew he had been right. And now it was time to tell Balthazar.

When Peter walked into their house that evening, Balthazar was putting away dishes. There was a plate covered with foil waiting by the sink.

“Hey,” Balthazar smiled, while shaking some droplets of water off his hand. He nodded toward the plate. “I left you something. It’s edible, I swear. Pasta.”

Peter leaned over and gave Balthazar a quick kiss, picking up the plate and removing the foil to pop it in the microwave. He leaned against the counter for a moment, simply watching Balthazar as he reached up to put away flatware and sorted through silverware. Balthazar must have noticed Peter’s eyes on him, because he turned around.

“What?” Balthazar flushed.

“Nothing. I just really love you.”

Balthazar shook his head, and rolled his eyes a little. “Okay, Pete.” He turned around to continue to put away dishes.

“No, c’mon,” Peter reached out a hand and pulled Balthazar over to him, kissing him on the forehead and locking him into a hug. “I was being serious. Seriously romantic.”

“You’re such a dork,” Balthazar said, giving in to the hug anyway. The microwave beeped, indicating it was done heating the food inside. Peter ignored it.

Balthazar brushed a lock of Peter’s hair that had fallen across his forehead. “Your food is done. And I have homework to grade. So stop being weird and eat.”

And, well, Peter _was_ starving. He’d been too nervous to eat any lunch, and there’d been no time for food before his meeting. He might as well fortify himself before he started the conversation he needed to have with Balth. So he ate his pasta quietly while he watched Balthazar grade papers. Balthazar hummed a little, occasionally shaking his head with a fond little smirk when one of his students had obviously said something outrageously incorrect.

When Peter was done with his meal, he took his plate into the kitchen to wash and put away, and returned to the dining room with a cup of tea in each hand. He placed one in front of Balthazar, for which he got an absentminded “Thanks,” and another in front of himself, and then cleared his throat. Balthazar looked up, his forehead creasing.

“What’s up?” Balthazar asked, setting aside a paper that had a worrying amount of red ink splashed all over it.

“So.” Peter spun the mug in front of him around, so that the rainbow on it was facing Balthazar, and then frowned, and spun the rainbow back toward himself. He cleared his throat again. “So.”

“So?”

“So. I got a call today.”

“Okay?”

“From Jim Fellowes. Over at the Labour Party offices.”

Balthazar straightened his spine and his face become serious. “And?”

“We had a meeting tonight. That’s where I was. They want me to run.” Well, nothing like just… saying it.

“Now?” Balthazar gasped.

Peter shook his head. “No, not now. I’m only about a year in with the Ministry and they’d like to see me stay there another year or two. Plus, they’d like me to be at least 26 or so. So that it’s ‘mid-20s’ in the media, rather than ‘just out of uni’. But yeah, in general. They want me to run. They have things they want me to do over the next year or two. Issues to push. Places to be seen. People to meet. But, then, yeah—they want to back me.”

“Would we have to move?”

“No. Well, probably not. They think the local MP will be ready to bow out by then. And they’d run me as a list candidate too. Probably.”

Balthazar nodded. Peter could see him swallow hard. “Well, then. I guess it’s time.”

“Yeah. Balth, are you…” Peter trailed off.

Balthazar shook his head. “Sorry, no. I mean, this was the plan, right? We knew it was coming. Or we hoped. It’s just… soon. I thought—I thought we had more time.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, it’s a little fast. But I can’t say no, Balthy.”

“No, of course you can’t, Pete! Shit. I’m doing this all wrong.” Balthazar shook his head again and gripped Peter’s hand across the table. He took a deep breath. “Congratulations, Pedro. I am so, so proud of you.”

Peter felt the warmth of Balthazar’s endearment run over him. Peter, much to Balthazar’s annoyance, had about a dozen different pet names he called his boyfriend at every possible opportunity, but Balthazar never used them. Usually it was just Pete or Peter, or if he was really annoyed, Peter Adrian Donaldson. But in moments of deep feeling, when most people probably would’ve said “my love,” or “darling,” Balthazar called him Pedro. Peter could only believe that its appearance now meant that Balthazar really was happy for him.

“So… we’re okay?” Peter confirmed. The grip on his hand became tighter.

“Of course we’re okay. I’m just a little overwhelmed. But of course they wanted you so quickly. Who wouldn’t?”

“And you’re sure?”

“Peter. I wouldn’t have stayed back then if I wasn’t sure. It’s just going to take me a little bit to come to grips with the reality of it in my head. But you and I? We’re good. We’re great. And you’re going to change the world.”

And then Peter knew. He’d have two years to build his reputation, to meet with important political personages, to sharpen his image, to figure out a platform. But the most important thing he needed to do between now and when he ran his first campaign for Parliament—oh, god, he was going to run for Parliament—was to marry this man in front of him.

***

He just had to figure out how to propose. It had to be exactly right. Balthazar deserved the most romantic and perfect proposal ever. Peter thought about asking Jaquie for advice, and then laughed at himself. Jaquie was his best friend, but she was the last person in the world he could ask about this.

So he tried to broach the subject with Paige at their bi-monthly tennis date. The regular tennis matches were supposed to be doubles, with Peter and Balth taking on Paige and Chelsey, but the foursome almost always quickly devolved into a duo. Chelsey and Balthazar usually begged off after the first match and went to sit on the bleachers nearby, preferring to chat with one another rather than get involved in Peter and Paige’s epic grudge matches. Balthazar always said it looked like they were trying to “tennis each another into submission.”

During a water break between matches three and four, Peter glanced over at Balthazar and Chelsey, who were happily playing around with Balthazar’s ukulele. Balthazar had been trying to teach Chelsey how to play for a few years now. Chelsey had called it hopeless more than a few times, and Balthazar privately told Peter that he agreed with this assessment, but they both seemed to find it a fun way to pass the tennis afternoons. Anyway, they were out of earshot, and this was Peter’s chance.

“So,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m going to propose to Balthazar.”

“Yeah?” Paige scrunched up an eye and took a drink from her water bottle. “That’s cool.”

“So like. How should I do it?”

Paige doubled over in laughter, and Balthazar and Chelsey glanced over.

“Shit, Paige,” Peter said, trying to shush her. “Stop it! They’re looking. Be quiet.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just too hilarious. The man who once introduced Balthazar onstage at a gig as ‘The Great Love of My Life’ is asking me how to propose. I can’t.” She started laughing again. Now Balthazar and Chelsey looked like they were going to come over. Peter had to get Paige under control.

“Stop!” he hissed. “They’re going to come over here. C’mon. You proposed to Chelsey. You must have good advice. I need it to be perfect.”

“Oh, Peter. Why? He’s going to say yes. He’s obviously going to say yes. Just ask him. Pull out a ring or whatever, get down on one knee, and ask. Do it in your kitchen tonight. Balthazar won’t care.”

“That’s not enough. It needs to be special. It needs to mean something.”

“It will mean something because it’s the two of you.”

Peter looked at her skeptically. She shrugged. “Peter, I asked Chelsey to marry me on a Tuesday morning in the bathroom while we were brushing our teeth. I’ve written her songs, yeah, and I can cook a mean romantic dinner, but it’s like, why make a big production of it? We both knew we wanted to be together forever, and it was just _easy_. I mean, I guess I could have written her a big proposal song, but what would have been the point?”

Paige jerked her head back to the court, indicating she was ready for match number four. Peter followed behind her, his mind churning. A proposal song? That was exactly the right kind of idea.

***

What Peter decided, after much thought, was that he needed someone to help him figure out this proposal situation.

Paige had given him an idea, but clearly only in jest. Jaquie was out for all the same reasons he hadn’t gone to her in the first place. Besides, she was awfully far away and busy in workshops for her play in London. Costa, he was sure, would’ve loved to help him plan a proposal, but Peter wasn’t sure the world was ready to see that particular production. Besides, Costa had joined Jaquie in London within a month of her moving. Peter still wasn’t clear on the exact status of their relationship, but he did know they lived next door to each other, which comforted Peter is some odd, undefinable way; he’d gotten so used to seeing them with each other during uni that he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to adjust to thinking of one without the other.

 Kit was out. He and Peter got along fine, and they could always find common ground in sports or music—they never lacked for conversation. But Peter had always felt that it was clear that Kit was Balthazar’s friend, and that Peter came along as part of the package with Balthazar.

As close as Peter and John were these days, he wouldn’t ask John for his advice on this kind of thing. Advice on _when_ to propose, whether it was a good _idea_ to propose, a detailed _history_ of literary proposals—sure. But _how_ to propose? No. John would just tell him the same thing Paige had.

No, what Peter needed was a very particular kind of friend. Someone who would understand the importance of getting it exactly right. Someone who always had his back. Someone whose mind worked on the right level. He needed, for lack of a better word, a _bro_.

Which really only left one option. There was one person who would understand the importance of this situation, who would unquestionably want to help, who probably wouldn’t laugh at him. Peter had some natural hesitation, but if anyone could organize a romantic and sweeping proposal, it was him. And he’d been chomping at the bit to organize a proposal for a few years. Maybe he’d be happy to get a practice run at it.

And it turned out Ben was _overjoyed_ to help Peter arrange his proposal. He had more ideas than Peter had time to listen to, and the idea of a proposal song quickly snowballed to _songs_ , plural, and before Peter knew it, there was a plan, there was a date, there was a location, and everything was in motion. It all seemed to fall into place by October, and from his cozy little house with Balthazar and his nice sunlit office in Wellington, the whole thing seemed perfect and easy.

It hadn’t occurred to Peter that perhaps The Proposal Plan, as he and Ben had begun calling it in their numerous emails, text messages, and phone calls, had gotten slightly out of control until he realized exactly how much coordination and secrecy—and outright lying—was involved.

For one thing, there was the problem of getting everyone to Auckland for New Year’s. He and Ben had come up with a list of who should be involved, and a whole lot of them were located in Wellington. But Ben insisted that the proposal _had_ to take place in Auckland; it was where Pedro and Balthazar had taken their first shaky steps toward true love, after all. Or anyway, that was how Ben put it. Peter had been rather easily convinced. Auckland would always be home; their families would be there to celebrate; Ben was coordinating a lot of the details, and he was in Auckland; and Peter and Balth would be in Auckland at New Year’s anyway, and New Year’s Day really was the perfect time to propose. It all made so much sense!

So in November, Peter began making surreptitious phone calls to his friends. He couldn’t do it at work, so he had to try to find times Balthazar was out of the house, or occupied elsewhere. A few times, he had to sneak out to the local park to make a call. He almost got caught twice and had several mini-heart attacks in the process, but he finally managed to get everyone on board.

He started with Jaquie, because she’d kill him if she found out she wasn’t the first invitation. That was a tough call, both because of the time zone difference and because of the sheer mockery he faced.

“So, look, Jaqs. I’m going to propose to Balthazar.”

“No way. You’re finally going to tie down your little songbird?” Jaquie thought she was hilarious. Peter only agreed when the hilarity was turned on someone else.

“Yes. So look, at New Year’s, we’re all going down to Auckland and there’s this whole… plan.” Peter described the plan as quickly and succinctly as he could, ignoring her audible smirk. Eventually, Peter wrapped up. “So, I know you’re really busy and probably can’t make it and it’s an expensive trip, but if you want to help, I’d love to have you there. But I’m sure you can’t.” God, he hoped she couldn’t. Because he loved her. But also, she would never, ever let him live this down.

“Are you kidding? Miss you proposing to Mr. Dreamy Eyes? I booked my flight while you were rambling on about the park. This is going to be amazing.”

So, that was a thing that happened. Peter counted himself lucky that Costa couldn’t join her. He had called Peter and apologized profusely—before Peter had even called to _ask_ , mind—explaining there was a class on mime techniques that he was teaching that he simply couldn’t miss. Why he was teaching such a class at all, let alone on New Year’s, Peter couldn’t find it in himself to ask. But Costa promised to come back for the wedding itself, and that was just fine with Peter.

Then there was Freddie. She was easiest to get to and could do the hard work of asking Kit on Peter’s behalf. Plus, she was terrifying enough that Peter could be reasonably sure Kit wouldn’t let anything slip to Balthazar. Peter didn’t really _get_ Kit and Freddie’s relationship. They had broken up in Peter and Balthazar’s third year, when Freddie was in her fourth and Kit in his second. They had stayed broken up the following year, but somehow had still taken their OE together, posting pictures from around the world to a joint Instagram account that was so locked down, there were only twenty-five users approved to look at it. When they’d gotten home, they’d moved back in together while Kit attended his third year of university and returned to his job at Boyet’s, and Freddie began to climb the political ladder through her new job for a local MP. They still hadn’t been dating at that time, as best Peter could tell. That’s what Balthazar had said, anyway, and Peter figured he’d know if anyone would. But then, this past year, it had become clear that Kit and Freddie were now together again. Peter just didn’t understand it. The idea of having that kind of back and forth with Balthazar was unimaginable to him, and he thought that if he had to live with Balthazar, but didn’t get to kiss him, to sleep with him at night, to love him openly, it would be sheer agony. It would be like that first year in Wellington all over again. But whatever. It seemed to work for Kit and Freddie.

So, one day Peter took a bit of an extended lunch and went over to Freddie’s office to ask her for her and Kit’s presence at New Year’s. After some friendly ribbing, Freddie agreed happily enough. She did look a bit concerned when Peter mentioned that Ben had done most of the planning, though, and when she texted later that night to let him know that Kit was on board, she also mentioned that Kit was willing to meet up to go over the plan. If Peter wanted.

Peter was slightly offended, although he knew Kit meant well. And, in retrospect, maybe he should have taken Kit up on his offer. Probably Balthazar had mentioned his own ideas for the proposal to Kit once or twice. It’s just… Peter had The Proposal Plan. It was going to be perfect. And he should know Balthazar better than anyone. Plus, he had _Ben’s_ help, and Ben had known Balthazar for years longer than Kit. Balthazar would love it. Besides, it was always so awkward when Kit and Peter were alone.

Peter didn’t have to ask Bea – Ben had already taken care of that. Ben also emailed Hero, who was on her OE but planned to be home by Christmas, and Ben assured Peter that Hero was well on board. Peter usually saw Meg when he was with Balthazar, so he thought about calling or emailing her. But that seemed rude when they only lived twenty minutes apart. Unfortunately, when he texted her to see where they could meet up, Meg suggested her flat. Which meant Vegan Fred’s flat. Peter had been afraid of that. Luckily, Vegan Fred wasn’t home when Peter arrived and he was able to sketch out The Proposal Plan for Meg before he came back. Meg had stared at him blankly for a few minutes after he finished describing the series of events that were to take place on New Year’s. The first words out of her mouth were, “Is Jaquie going to be there?”

“Yes,” Peter had said, confused.

“Does she know about the whole plan?” Meg asked.

“Yes.” Peter confirmed.

“What did she say?”

“Uh,” Peter scratched his head. “She mostly cackled.”

Meg nodded. “So I can Skype her about this?”

Peter wrinkled his forehead. “I guess? As long as no one says anything to Balthazar.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I’ll come home at New Year’s to help.”

“Oh. Great.”

“Yeah. Can you leave now? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but like – I need to call someone. Immediately.”

“Okay?” Peter turned to go, before turning back to Meg. “It’s not Vegan Fred, right?”

Meg looked at him blankly. “Why would I call Vegan Fred?”

“Uh, I don’t know. To invite him, or something? Which, please don’t.”

“Oh, Peter. My sweet summer child. I’m not going to invite Fred to your proposal.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, bye then, Meg? I guess?”

“Bye, Peter!” Meg smiled at him cheerily, as he made his way out the door. He could have sworn he heard her laughing from all the way at the end of the driveway.

John had been easier. He was in his fourth year at university in Auckland, and seriously overworked and overstressed. He was planning to get his Master’s at Oxford next year, but Peter thought it was good that John would have a few months’ break at home between the end of his last semester at university in Auckland and the beginning of the Oxford semester. When Peter called him, the conversation had been brief.

“Hey, John! How’s it going up there?”

“Fine. I’m quite busy right now, Pedro. I’d love to talk, but can we arrange another time? Perhaps next week?”

“Sure. I mean, I want to talk about life and stuff, but maybe I can ask you something really quickly right now?”

“Okay.”

“So, I’m planning to propose to Balthazar.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Yeah, and I have this whole plan. See, I…”

“Pedro. Can we do this in two minutes? Because I have class in two minutes.”

“Oh. Yeah. Auckland. New Year’s. Proposal plan. I want you to be there. I have a special role for you and everything.”

“Great. I’m very happy for you. Email me the details. I have to go.”

“Okay. John… You know I’m here if you need me.”

John’s voice softened almost imperceptibly. “Thank you, Pedro. But I’m fine. The semester is almost over and I’m looking forward to being done. I promise I’m okay. And I really am happy for you and for Balthazar. You’re very… well, I’m … anyway, I’ll see you at Christmas.”

Probably the hardest conversation was with Rosa. Peter really needed her help to pull this off. And Rosa liked him, Peter was pretty sure. He might not have been her favorite person at times during his first year of university, but they got along well now, and Rosa, like the whole Jones clan, was very supportive of his and Balthazar’s relationship. But talking to her about this was like going through a gauntlet.

She insisted on meeting at Boyet’s, for one thing. Sometimes Peter wondered if there was any other coffee shop in Wellington anyone in their friend group was willing to go to. Balthazar looked at Peter very suspiciously that morning when he explained he was meeting a friend at Boyet’s. Because Peter wasn’t going to lie to Balthazar any more than absolutely necessary. What if someone mentioned they saw Peter at Boyet’s that morning? But Balth knew Peter hated going there, and though he didn’t push Peter on it, it was obvious he was suspicious, and the whole thing ended up being very stressful.

Then, the conversation started like this:

“Aw, ickle Pedro. What makes you think you’re good enough to marry my brother?”

For a moment, Peter teetered between defending himself and forgetting all his pride and simply prostrating himself before Rosa. When he opened his mouth to speak, he still had no idea what he was going to say—and he never did find out, because Rosa cut him off, laughing and playfully mussing  his hair.

“Chill, Pedro. I’m just kidding. While I don’t necessarily view marriage as an institution to aspire to, you make Balthazar very happy, and I’m very happy for you both. Although, if you hurt him, just remember that I know people.”

Peter swallowed uncomfortably. He had no doubt that Rosa _did_ know people.

But she agreed cheerfully enough to play her part, then spent the next fifteen minutes gleefully grilling Peter on every detail of the plan, to ensure that it met her standards. Mercifully, a work call cut their lunch short.

“PR crises wait for no man, woman, or weekend,” Rosa said, gathering her things.

Most of Peter’s mind was occupied with relief that this conversation was over and he could eat the rest of his stupid vegan lunch in peace. But the small part of his brain that spoke in Freddie’s voice did manage to make itself heard, and pointed out that it might be very helpful indeed to have a sister-in-law who was currently quickly climbing the ranks at one of the best PR firms in New Zealand.

After Rosa, Peter took a shot at Ursula, since she and Balthazar had remained such good friends. The emails they exchanged were friendly, but Ursula had to stay in America for her job. She, like Costa, promised she’d be home for the wedding and wished Peter the best of luck with his plan, promising to stay silent on the topic when she and Balthazar spoke.

Paige and Chelsey couldn’t make it either. They were planning to spend the whole holiday with Chelsey’s mum and Paige’s parents. Between Paige’s academic stress over the second year of her master’s in psychology, and Chelsey’s stress over wrangling a horde of kindergarteners every day, and the fact that they lived nine hours away from Chelsey’s dad, they had to squeeze every moment of relaxation and family time they possibly could out of their break.

Nevertheless, they agreed to help. Paige still thought The Proposal Plan was over the top, and strongly urged Peter to simply propose like a normal person, but in the end, she couldn’t really _not_ help. After all, Peter and Balthazar had found a way to come home from their OE simply to attend Chelsey and Paige’s wedding the year before. So Paige leant him her songwriting skills, and traded emails with Ben about it, and sent Peter off for the holiday with luck that she insisted he wouldn’t need.

And that was the lot: Every single person that Peter or Ben thought should be involved, accounted for. But gathering the troops wasn’t even the hardest part. No, he hardest part was convincing Balthazar to have a party.

Ben was very clear that they needed somewhere to come back to and celebrate once the proposal part was over. (“Won’t that be depressing, if he says no?” Peter had said. Ben had simply laughed.) Usually, they went to Bea and Ben’s New Year’s party. But this year, the whole idea was to have everyone gathered in one place, and it only made sense for it to be at the Jones’s, where Peter and Balthazar had already agreed they’d be staying for New Year’s. Peter and Ben wanted all of the parents present, some high school friends, all of their current friend group, and all of the siblings. But they didn’t want to let that many people know about the proposal, for fear it would slip out to Balthazar. Enough people already knew.

But throwing a party meant negotiating with Balthazar, who was perfectly happy to go to _other_ people’s parties, where he could leave after a few hours, but had never loved throwing his own. It was, after all, much harder to escape from a party you were hosting.

“Come on, Balthy,” Peter pleaded over dinner, two weeks before the big day. “It’s New Year’s Eve! Hero will be back from her OE, John will be between universities. Everyone will be home. It’s the perfect time for a get-together.”

“Peter. You are not talking about a get-together. You’re talking about a _party_.”

“Okay, but it’s a party full of people you love! It’s not a loud, drinking party. It’s a nice little party, with good friends and family, maybe some food, a little champagne. Low-key.”

“ _Low-key_? Let’s count. My parents, your parents, John, Rosa, Portia and Tristan—who will insist on inviting their own friends if they have to stay home for New Year’s, and their friends are all _eighteen_. Plus there’s whichever random Jones family members end up showing up this year for the holidays, which _always_ happens, remember Christmas last year? Ben, Bea, Hero, and if Bea and Hero and your parents are coming that means Imogen and Antonia and probably Leo. Not that I mind having them, I love them, but aren’t Bea’s parents in town for the holiday, too? So that’s, what, at least 16 people, not counting unexpected guests. Oh, and Meg.”

“First of all, you act like Portia and Tristan have delinquent friends. They have lovely friends. They’ll make a great addition to this small, _low-key_ party. And random Joneses showing up at the door are part of the fun. And we _love_ our friends, Balthy. It will be awesome to see them all again.”

Balthazar shook his head. “I don’t get it. This is weird. Even for you.”

“What? It’s weird to want to spend the New Year with the people we love, before they all head out to the wide world, spread across continents?”

Balthazar stared at him. “Hero’s coming _home_ , Peter. To teach art _in Auckland_. Bea and Ben live in Auckland, and they aren’t going anywhere. Not unless you expect Bea to ditch law school, and Ben to quit his film… thing. The only person leaving is John, and we’re going to see him the whole holiday.”

“Balthazar…” Peter drew his name out. “Please, babe?”

“Why can’t we just go to Bea and Ben’s like normal?”

“What if I promise to do the dishes for, like, a month? All the dishes. No dishes shall touch your hands.”

“I don’t mind doing the dishes, Pete.”

“Just. This is really important me. Please?”

Balthazar sighed. “Weird. This is weird. Okay, I give. We’ll have a party. But I get to go lock myself in my room, if I want. And we’re going to have a vegan option.”

“Yes!” Peter pumped his fist and jumped a little. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You won’t regret this, I promise.”

“I’m like 99% sure that I already do.”

***

And so, the stage was set. Balthazar and Peter left for Auckland on December 23rd, planning to be back home in Wellington just after the New Year. Ben assured Peter everything was handled on his end. Everything was going according to plan: Paige’s part was done, travel plans had been made all around, party invitations had been sent. And Balthazar was none the wiser. Sure, Balth was throwing Peter some weird looks now and again, but he never asked why Peter was constantly on Skype these days, or why he’d been running around like a five-year-old on a sugar high for a week, or why Rosa wouldn’t stop winking at him. He seemed to have chalked everything up to some sort of Christmas fever, and Peter was fine with that.

With the proposal plans in order, there was nothing left for Peter to do but wait. He tried to put his nerves aside and enjoy the holiday. They had a lovely Christmas with the Donaldsons, and Peter was relieved to find John was much calmer now that he had graduated. They went to the beach with Bea, Ben, Meg and Hero. They met Tristan’s new girlfriend, and then, to Peter’s delight, they got to watch _Rosa_ meet Tristan’s new girlfriend. They watched old movies with Portia. Peter helped Balthazar’s mom with her found pieces art collage, and Balthazar discussed the perils of teaching hormonal thirteen-year-olds with Hero. They all gathered together to ooh and ahh over Hero’s pictures from abroad. Peter was perfectly at peace. Until December 30 th, when he completely fell apart.

Nothing happened, really. He simply wandered downstairs to the kitchen of the Jones home and found Balthazar stirring a cup of tea. Peter looked at him fondly and quietly, and thought, _I’m going to spend the rest of my life with him_. And then he panicked and called Bea, who gave him the name of a bar and told him to be there in fifteen minutes.

The sight of Beatrice sitting on a stool, with a beer in front of her, immediately calmed him. She still looked like Bea, even with her sharp new short haircut. Luckily, she was wearing normal Beatrice clothing tonight: jeans, Chucks, and a t-shirt. Peter didn’t think he could have taken it if he had to talk to Bea about this in her “lawyer” gear; the first time he’d seen here in high heels, he’d nearly fallen over with shock.

Bea let him drink in silence for a while, matching him shot for shot through four rounds before she began to push.

“Okay, let’s hear it. Give me your pre-proposal jitters.”

Peter stared morosely at the empty shot glasses in front of him that had once held tequila. He wasn’t sure how they were going to get home, but at the moment, that was the least of his problems.

“It’s all wrong, Bea. All wrong. It’s so… over the top. There are songs, Bea! So many songs. And they’re _terrible_.  I mean, they were fine when Paige wrote them. I’m pretty sure.” He squinted. “But then the others got their hands on them, and now they’re just so, so terrible. Balthazar is going to _hate_ them. How did this happen?”

Bea shrugged and slammed back another shot. “You decided that you had to have a ‘perfect and sweepingly romantic’ proposal, rather than just, like, _asking_ like a normal person? Paige told me she suggested a kitchen proposal, and I realize that that was never on the table, but you could have compromised and just taken Balthy out for a nice dinner and put the ring in a glass of champagne, you know?”

Peter groaned. “I should have. I should have done that. I just wanted him to know how special he was. I thought, a song, because Bea, he’s just such a good singer, and I just love it when he sings so much, you know?” He looked at her quite earnestly, and she patted his head.

“I know, Pedro.”

“But then, somehow… somehow, it all got away from me. How did that happen, Bea?”

 “You asked Ben for help?” she suggested.

“It’s just…” Peter held up his hands helplessly. “He’s my _bro_ , you know. And you really need a bro for advice on these things! And it turns out I only have two bros, Bea. And I’m dating one of them!”

“Oh, Pedro. Pedro, Pedro, Pedro.” Bea patted his arm. “Did you forget that _I_ am also your bro?”

“Dammit!” Peter yelled. His let his head thump against table. “I forgot that bros can be girls! Women! I mean women! Bros can be women! I was brought down by my own gender normativity! And now Balthazar is never going to agree to marry me, and it’s all because I forgot that bros can be women.”

Bea began to laugh hysterically.

“Why are you laughing at my pain?” Peter whined.

“I’m not laughing at your pain,” Bea said, still giggling as she spoke. “I’m laughing at the idea that Balthazar might say no. He’s horribly in love. I have no idea why, but he’s in love.” She stared at the empty shot glass in front of her, as if contemplating why it no longer held liquid. “Also, I’m laughing at your pain a little too, I think.” She squinted.

Peter began slamming his head into the table, but Bea grabbed the back of his collar to make him stop. “Pedro! Calm the fuck down. It’s going to be fine. Yes, your plan is ridiculous. No, none of it was necessary. Yes, you made a terrible mistake letting Ben get so involved. No, I am not going to forget this when it’s time for he and I to get engaged—which is why I plan to propose _first_. No, you’re not allowed to tell him that. Yes, tomorrow is going to be absurd. No, Balthazar isn’t going to say no.”

Peter could barely process all of that, but Bea seemed really, really sure that Balthazar wouldn’t say no. “Do you promise?” he slurred.

“What? That I’ll propose to Ben first? You better believe, I promise.”

“No,” Peter whined. “That Balthy won’t say no?”

“Pedro. Shut up. Yes, I promise. I love you. I wouldn’t let you do this if I thought there was any chance Balthazar would say no.”

Peter almost cried. He hugged Bea, and he could swear he thought he saw a tear threatening to come out of her own eye. Then he lost his balance and fell off the stool, and she started laughing again.

***

December 31, 2020 was a beautiful day. The skies were clear, the birds were chirping, it was warm outside, and Peter was sweating profusely. Ostensibly, the party would start at 8 p.m. The plan was for him and Balthazar to be back with their friends by no later than 9:00, with the proposal itself to take place in the front hall in relative private, and then to retreat back to the living room to celebrate with everyone.

By 5 p.m., Peter had set up as much as he could. The food was prepped and on card tables throughout the downstairs. The decorations, such as they were, were hung. The champagne was chilling. He and the twins, who had been let in on the plan only this morning, had cleaned the house in the early afternoon. Now was the hard part. He had to disappear.

Balthazar was busy doing something in their room, fiddling away with his keyboard; Peter had sent him away from the party preparations, ostensibly because Balth hadn’t wanted the party in the first place, but actually because Peter didn’t want him catching sight of anything that said “Congratulations.” He snuck past Balthazar’s room, knocked quietly on Rosa’s door to let her know he was leaving, and tip-toed down the stairs. Tristan and Portia gave him high fives as he walked by them in the kitchen. He grabbed the bag he needed from behind the potted plant where he had stashed it this morning and then headed out the front door, glancing back before quietly closing it. When he came back here tonight, he would be an engaged man. He hoped.

***

Rosa was ready when Balthazar finally emerged from his bedroom at six. She was waiting in the kitchen, adding ice to and stirring a bowl of punch that Peter had prepared before he left. She’d sent the twins downstairs to the rec room, afraid that they wouldn’t be able to keep their excitement in check around Balthazar.

“Rosa?” Balthazar rubbed at his eyes, a gesture Rosa remembered well from the many evenings in high school when he’d reluctantly joined the family for dinner after hours of composing. “Where’s Peter? He said he had the party preparations taken care of. You shouldn’t have to help, it’s not _your_ party.”

“Hm,”Rosa murmured. “I’m just stirring punch, Balthazar. There’s not much heavy lifting involved.”

“Yeah, but like, this was his whole plan. He shouldn’t be foisting his job off on you. Where is he?”

“I don’t know. I thought he was locked in your room with you.”

Balthazar stared at her. “Why would he be doing that when there’s a party starting in two hours?”

“I don’t know. So he could make moony eyes at you while you sing?”

“He doesn’t do that.” Balthazar reached into the cupboard to get a glass, though Rosa suspected it was a pretense to hide his face.

“He totally does. It’s embarrassing, really. Well, for him. And for you, since you’re dating him. It’s hilarious for the rest of us.” She narrowed her eyes at Balthazar’s outfit. A t-shirt and jeans wasn’t going to cut it for tonight. She needed to get him to change. And do something with his hair, which was weirdly askew, probably from running his hands through it while he composed. Balthazar would kill her if he ended up with bad hair in his engagement photos. It was a quarter of her job: make sure Balthazar looked presentable; make sure Balthazar was at home and ready to leave by seven; make sure he didn’t find out he was being proposed to; let people in for the party. Rosa wasn’t going to screw up a quarter of her job. Not on the night of her brother’s engagement to his ridiculous boyfriend.

“Speaking of embarrassing,” Rosa said, “you look atrocious. Go change.”

Balthazar glanced down at his outfit. “I look like I always do, Rosie.”

“Yeah, well. It’s New Year’s. You’re throwing a party. You should look… not like that. And do something about the hair. It’s reaching 13-year-old levels of horror.”

“It is not!” Balthazar grabbed a nearby baking sheet to look and grimaced at the distorted reflection. “Yeah, okay. It’s a little weird-looking.” He began to shuffle out of the kitchen and Rosa allowed herself a satisfied smirk for a moment, until Balthazar turned back.

“Rosa? There’s nothing… there’s nothing happening at this party that I should maybe know about, is there?”

“Like what?” Rosa raised her eyebrows, keeping her cool. She lied for a living. Or, as she put it in company, “artfully concealed certain truths.” No way was she going to be the one to blow this thing.

“I don’t know. It’s just… Peter’s been acting really weird. Did you know he took off last night for the bar with Bea? Ben had to drive them home at like, 2 a.m. He almost never gets drunk anymore, and he had to leave his car behind. And the twins have been acting strange all day. It’s just… look, I just want to prepare myself. Is something happening at the party?”

“There’s nothing happening at the party. I promise.” _That_ was an artfully concealed truth, if ever there was one. It would all be over by the time they got back to the party, technically, since the party itself was happening in the living room, and the proposal was happening in the front hall. And everything else was happening all the fuck over Auckland. And Balthazar hadn’t asked if the party itself was an engagement party.

“Rosie…” Balthazar raised an eyebrow.

“Stanley Balthazar Jones. Are you accusing your sister of lying?” She held up the ladle threateningly, hoping that the punch that dripped down her wrist didn’t ruin the effect. Balthazar raised his hands in a placating manner.

“Never, never,” he muttered, retreating to his room. Rosa blew out a sigh of relief. Peter owed her _so_ much. One day she’d figure out how he could possibly begin to repay her.

Then again, having a brother-in-law in Parliament might have its advantages.

By the time Balthazar emerged from changing and fixing his hair, it was quarter to seven. Rosa looked him over critically. His shirt was nicer, and he was wearing pressed jeans. It would have to do. At least his hair was back to its normal artfully coiffed perfection. She set him down with bags of vegetables to divide between platters, while he grumbled about this being Peter’s job. At least he had ceased asking where Peter was, because she simply didn’t have a good answer for that one.

At 7 o’clock on the dot, the doorbell rang. Rosa ran to answer it before Balthazar could get up. She led John into the kitchen. Balthazar raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked at the wall clock.

“John? You’re like, an hour early.”

John laughed a little. “Good to see you too, Balthazar.”

“We saw each other, like, yesterday. Hey, speaking of which. Do you know where the hell Peter went off to?”

John shrugged. “My car’s outside. Let’s go find him.”

Balthazar looked back and forth between John and Rosa. He seemed to be taking in Rosa’s pleased face and her rather fancy emerald green dress, and John’s pressed khakis and short sleeved dress shirt. He looked them up and down carefully and then looked around the house. After a moment, he nodded.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go find Peter. I just need to grab something from our room. Give me a minute.” He ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

“Well.” John looked nonplussed. “That was actually easier than I anticipated.”

Rosa shrugged. “He knows something’s up. Was probably inevitable by the time you showed up.”

“I guess it’s a good thing the lot of us never had to bury a body, or anything.”

Rosa arched an eyebrow at him. “I don’t get you.”

John smiled a bit. “Right back at you.”

“And God, now we’re going to be related.”

John shrugged. “Only through marriage. Presuming we all survive whatever kind of wedding these two manage to throw.”

Rosa sighed internally. She wasn’t sure having John as a brother-in-law would be advantageous at _all_. On the other hand, connections to Britain were never bad…

***

It wasn’t long before Balthazar came back downstairs. “Okay, John,” he said. “Let’s do this. Whatever _this_ is.” John was fairly certain Balthazar knew _exactly_ what this was, but what he probably couldn’t anticipate was the exact sequence of fairly terrifying events that was about to take place. If John had to guess, and he knew Balthazar quite well, Balthazar probably thought John was supposed to just keep him occupied while the rest of them set up for a surprise engagement at the party. Which was kind of true, John supposed. It just wasn’t the _whole_ truth.

“To the car.” John pointed and Balthazar dutifully made his way out to Ann’s car, strapping himself into the front seat. John adjusted the mirrors and fiddled with the radio. Where was she? John looked at the clock anxiously. Any second now, Balthazar was going to ask—

“John, are you waiting for something? Or just stalling?”

John frantically scrambled for an excuse in his mind, but just as he was about to give up and say, “Stalling,” the back door of the car opened and then slammed shut.

“Let’s do this thing,” the new occupant of the car declared. Balthazar swiveled around.

“Jaquie?” He gasped.

“What’s up, Tiny One? Where’s Angelus?”

Balthazar laughed. “Somehow I think you’re more likely to know that right now than I am.”

“Whatever. Let’s go find your vampire boyfriend.”

John shook his head. “If you two are done making _Angel_ jokes and disparaging my poor absent brother, we should really get going.”

“Going _where_?” Balthazar asked. “And Jaquie, it’s wonderful to see you. I mean that. But what the hell are you doing here? Don’t you have a play opening in the West End in like, a month?”

“Like I’d miss this show.” She waved a camcorder in the air. “I’m here to document, Music Man. Theater is a living art. And this must be captured for posterity, whatever Costa may say filming killing theater.”

Balthazar groaned and put his head in his hands. “This is going to be bad, isn’t it?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” said Jaquie. “Do you think I’d fly all the way back here for any less than a full-on disaster?”

John shook his head and put the car into drive. He’d feel bad for Peter, but he’d gone to _Ben_ , for heaven’s sake. One had to live with the consequences of one’s choices.

***

Ann’s car pulled up to Messina High almost right on time. The plan had been to start at 7:10, and Bea’s watch—which she’d been anxiously checking since 7:05—read 7:16 when she saw the car park in the student lot. She jumped from foot to foot as John guided Balthazar over to the picnic table where she was waiting, one white rose in her hand. Jaquie kept pace beside them, already filming.

Balthazar drew up short as he saw her. He swallowed noticeably, and Bea smiled. Obviously he’d figured out at least part of what was going on. No wonder. She was wearing a _dress_ for God’s sake.

John murmured something to Balthazar, who walked over to Bea slowly. She held out her unoccupied hand to him, and he took it. He swallowed a few more times and glanced about, as if expecting Pedro to pop up out of nowhere. Bea squeezed his hand reassuringly, bringing her forehead close to his.

Oh, how she loved this boy. And oh, how she loved the boy who had planned all of this. And oh, how happy she was that they were going to be together forever.

“You ready for this?” she whispered. Balthazar brought his free hand up to his eyebrow.

“I… I think so.”

“I think so too.” She nodded to John, who pulled out a sheaf of papers. It was John’s job to check the songs, make sure that each of them got it right, and help Balthazar out if he needed it. Bea doubted he would. The clues weren’t exactly difficult.

Of course, John would probably tell Peter she had changed the song a little. Well, let him. The stuff Ben had added had been all wrong, and the stuff Paige and Pedro had written hadn’t been nearly funny enough for her winning personality. Besides, there was nothing they could do to stop it now. What was John going to do, tackle her? She could take him.

John hit a button on his phone, and it began playing an instrumental recording for Bea to sing along to. She released Balthazar’s hand and went into showman mode. She hadn’t gotten any better at singing since year 13, but at least this wasn’t going up on YouTube, and it wasn’t about her own feelings. Really, as ridiculous as this whole plan was, it was no more than what Balthazar deserved after tricking her into filming that song about Ben. Even if it had worked out rather well in the end, as this would too.

 _Back when you and Pedro were eleven,  
_ _You met right at this school—right over there!  
_ _I witnessed that first meeting, let me tell you,  
_ _I’m really glad that you’ve both changed your hair._

Balthazar laughed at that part, which Bea took as a good sign. It was one of her own amazing additions to the lyrics.

 _Call it fate or destiny or magic.  
_ _No, please don’t do that, all those things are dumb.  
_ _Instead, thank me, because I introduced you,  
_ _And Pedro’s hair improved ’cause of my gum._

Now Balthazar was doubled over laughing. It was one of Bea’s favorite stories to tell, and it never failed to make Balthazar laugh.

 _The first stop on your trip is almost over,  
_ _And you’ll agree, I’m sure, it was the best.  
_ _The next one up is excellent, I’ll grant you,  
_ _They’ve got beans in coffee, beans in sweets at…_

The song stopped there. Bea looked at Balthazar expectantly.

“Definitely the best. Thanks, Bea.” Balthazar looked around, as if still expecting Peter to pop up.

“Balthazar,” Bea groaned. “No. Now you guess!”

“Guess what?” Balthazar asked. Bea shot a look to John like, _Can you believe this?_ John simply shrugged.

“Balthazar,” Bea said, “it’s a scavenger hunt! You have to guess the next location! Come on! Guess!”

Balthazar looked overwhelmed. “Uh, a scavenger hunt?”

“Yes, shrimpy, a scavenger hunt. Let’s go. Daylight is burning here,” Jaquie called from behind her camera.

“Jaquie, I don’t think Pedro is going to appreciate you calling Balthy ‘shrimpy’ on their prop—”  

John raised his eyebrows at her.

“On their special video,” Bea quickly corrected herself.

“I call him shrimpy all the time. He knows it comes from a place of love.”

Balthazar shrugged when Bea looked at him. “Jaquie shows her love in unique ways.”

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Jaquie said.

“Okay, fine.” Balthazar appeared to have given up and just decided to go with whatever was happening. He hummed a little to himself, to the tune of what Bea had sung. “Beans in coffee, beans in sweets at… Boyet’s!”

He grinned triumphantly. Bea nodded, grinning widely back. Boyet’s had expanded to Auckland a few years ago and was a big hit with the local college crowd.

“Great. You’ve solved the impossible clue. Let’s go.” Jaquie tapped her foot impatiently. Bea had the sense that Peter had tasked her with keeping them on their set timetable. Or maybe she was just bored now that the ridiculous singing was over.

“Okay, Jaqs.” Balthazar smiled. “I’m coming.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Bea’s forehead. “Thanks, Bea.”

“It was really my pleasure. I got to mock Pedro _and_ do something nice for you? Best New Year’s Eve ever.”

“So I’ll see you at the party, then?” Balthazar asked.

“Are you kidding?” Bea handed Balthazar the rose in her hand. “My car’s in the lot. I’ll be right behind you.”

***

Freddie leaned over Kit to peer out the window again. It was past 7:30 now. Peter had already texted three times to see if Balthazar had gotten there yet.

“Calm down, Freds. Jaquie just texted to say they’re less a minute away.”

“Okay, okay. I just want this to be perfect. If they do it right, this will be the only time Stanley gets proposed to.”

“It’ll be fine.” Kit wasn’t particularly worried. They had mostly stuck with Paige’s original version of the song, and he’d practiced a few times on the drive up from Wellington. Kit had, well, complicated feelings about Peter, but what wasn’t complicated was that he wanted his best friend to have the best proposal experience possible. Freddie’s additions were a little specific to her, but it would be cute. She adamantly refused to sing, but she had desperately wanted to participate. In fact, she had insisted on it. It would make Balthazar laugh, anyway. He grabbed Freddie’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

When Balthazar walked into the coffee shop, with Bea, John, and Jaquie and her camera trailing behind him, he looked a little shocked. The place was entirely shut down.

“Where… how?” He looked around, clearly puzzled by where all the patrons had gone.

Kit shrugged, smiling and handing Balthazar a perfectly made soy latte. He knew it was perfect, because he’d made it himself less than five minutes ago. “Vegan Fred owns the place. Peter may not be willing to call him for a favor, but I am. And you know how much he likes you. Besides, he thought it would be nice to give the employees a head start on their New Year’s night off.”

Balthazar gripped the coffee that Kit had handed him tightly in one hand, the white rose that Bea had provided at the previous stop in the other.

“I think you probably know how this goes by now, bro.” Kit waggled his eyes at Balthazar, who snorted. “Ready?”

Balthazar nodded. “Ready.”

“Cool. Here we go, then.”

John hit a button on his phone and Paige’s second pre-recorded song began to play. Kit had asked for something low and slow, and Paige had come through magnificently. As Jaquie continued to film, and Bea jumped up and down excitedly and snapped pictures with her phone, Kit started to sing.

 _Your lives are too big to stay in one town.  
__You loved each other here,  
__You loved each other all around.  
__Your first kiss was an entire nation away,  
__But here’s a bit of Boyet’s, to remember the day._  

While Kit sang, Freddie danced around him, twirling and showing off her languid moves, miming some of the lyrics with her body language. As Kit paused for breath at the end of the verse, she threw up her hands and yelled, “CHA CHA CHA!”

 _It was an uphill climb, it was a winding road,  
_ _You didn’t know where you were headed,  
_ _Sometimes you didn’t want to know.  
_ _You were battling the rapids, but it only goes to prove  
_ _The course of true love never did run smooth._

_“_ CHA CHA CHA! _”_ added Freddie helpfully.

Balthazar had begun to look a little choked up, but Kit wasn’t entirely sure if it was from the song or from Freddie’s antics. 

 _There’s someone beside you now, wherever you go,  
__Uphill, downhill,  
__Heat or storm or snow.  
__But the guy who’s walking with you, his emotional intelligence is zero.  
__We all told him not to do this, but for your next stop, go see_ - 

“CHA CHA CHA!” This time, Bea, Jaquie, and even John had joined in with Freddie, though only Bea approached Freddie’s enthusiasm. Freddie pulled a face and put her hands on her hips, staring at them as if trying to discern if they were mocking her.

“That was really beautiful, Kit.” Balthazar said. “And Freds! Freds, that was some… excellent dancing.”

“I also came up with the ‘cha cha cha’ part too!” Freddie said. Jaquie snorted, but Balthazar shot her a warning look, and she rolled her eyes and returned her attention to her camera.

“It was amazing, guys.” Balthazar hugged them each in turn. “And I’m so touched you came all the way down here, for, well, this. Where are you staying?”

“We actually got here last night,” Kit said. “Peter’s parents are putting us up.”

“They’re really lovely!” said Freddie. “Nothing like Peter! I can’t believe how different they are. It’s hard to imagine they’re related.”

Everyone stared at her.

“Shit! I didn’t mean it like that. Peter’s lovely too! You know I love Peter. He’s my favorite political frenemy. Shit. Erase that, Jaquie!”

“No way,” Jaquie said from behind her viewfinder. Fred leapt toward Jaquie, who dodged her with easy grace. “This is gold.”

“Jaquie.” Balthazar looked at her.

“Fiiiine,” Jaquie sighed. “I’ll edit that part out.”

But the moment Balthazar looked away, she caught Kit’s eye and shook her head.

“ _Guess_ already!” Bea said, hopping up and down.

“Oh, right.” Balthazar thought a moment, as Freddie returned to Kit’s side and they both looked at him expectantly. “What was it? ‘His emotional intelligence is zero. We all told him not do this, so go see…’ Hero?” He looked to John for confirmation.

“Yep.” John rolled his eyes.

“I assume you added those last two lines?” Balthazar asked Kit.

Kit nodded. “Your boy. He’s got a masochistic streak. You know that right? I feel like you should know that.”

“I think we _all_ know that,” Bea said.

Balthazar shrugged. “We all have our burdens to bear, I guess. Thanks for this, guys.” He leaned over to hug Kit and then Freddie, carefully balancing the coffee cup and the rose.

“Oh, you’re not getting away from us that easily, Stanley Balthazar Jones. We’re caravanning this thing.” Freddie waved to their car, sitting in the parking lot outside the shop.

Balthazar sighed. “Yeah, that seems about right.”

“Oh, my god. Are you just going to keep talking forever? Let’s get out of here. This place smells like soy.” Jaquie hereded them all out of the coffee shop and into the parking lot, where the sun was just beginning to fade.

***

It was close to eight by the time they pulled up to Hero’s. Jaquie was sighing every two minutes now. John kept throwing her looks in the rear view mirror, but she felt she was being positively restrained. She only sighed every _other_ time Peter texted her to ask where they were. Jaquie was doing her best to placate him, but it wasn’t like she could do much about it. These people just wanted to talk and talk, and hug and hug, and emote and emote. It was really _hard_ to keep them moving. And Peter was clearly losing his mind, having to wait.

On the bright side, her project to document the living art of theater was going quite well and this time she was sure that Costa wouldn’t be able to win their ongoing argument about filming his shows.

***

Hero stared at her bedroom door. Bea had texted her that they were on their way, so she was expecting a knock at any moment. She had a freshly-baked vegan chocolate chip cookie in one hand and her ukulele was in the other. She was ready. She was excited. She was a little nervous, to be honest.

Hero’d been honored to be asked to deliver one of Pedro’s proposal songs, but the lyrics Pedro had sent her had been… well, they had been quite morose, really. All about mistakes and regrets and missed chances. The phrase “apology party” had appeared, which Hero considered to be a contradiction in terms. Not that the song was bad! It was a lovely song, one that would be great to wallow in on a sad, rainy day. And she could tell that it was informed by deep emotion. But this was Balthazar’s _proposal_. She just couldn’t sing him a sad, rainy-day song.

So, she’d changed it. Just a few tweaks here and there.

Well, maybe more than a few.

Well, all of it, really. She’d written a new song, was what she’d done.

She hoped Pedro wouldn’t be too angry with her. But also, there was a secret part of her that wasn’t worried at all. Pedro was kind of terrified of her. Which was ridiculous. She _liked_ Pedro. She’d been friends with him since she was eight years old. They’d lived together quite happily for a year. She’d always been a strong proponent of his and Balthazar’s relationship. It was annoying, frankly, that Pedro couldn’t come up with something positive for Hero to sing about. She’d been around for plenty of happy moments in his and Balth’s relationship, and there was absolutely nothing terrifying about her.

That said, if she could use Pedro’s terror to her advantage, well… it was for his own good.

The door opened, shaking Hero out of her thoughts. It was Balthazar, of course, and he had accumulated quite an entourage. There was Jaquie, filming. Bea, holding a white rose and a cup of coffee in one hand, and taking pictures with the other. John, looking surprisingly relaxed and amused. Kit and Freddie, holding hands and peering over Jaquie’s shoulder.

“Hi, Balthazar.” Hero hugged him as well as she could without damaging the cookie or the ukulele.

“Et tu, Hero?” Balthazar joked.

“Sometimes you have to deceive a little, if it’s for a good cause.”

“Hero!” Bea said. “You should have heard me sing. It was great! I got the gum reference in!”

Hero laughed a little. She handed Balthazar the cookie. “A little treat to keep your energy up. It’s vegan.”

“Thanks, Hero.” Balthazar smiled and took a bite. “Oh, wow. That’s amazing. Possibly better than Vegan Fred’s recipe. Definitely better than the time _I_ tried to make Fred’s recipe.”

Jaquie sighed loudly. “You’re kidding me, right? Peter’s blowing up my phone with texts every two minutes and now we’re eating cookies?”

Hero tutted. “We _are_ a bit behind schedule.”

“Okay, Hero,” Balthazar said, shaking his head. “What have you got for me?”

“I take it you don’t need me?” John said, nodding at the ukulele.

“No, I’ve got this one covered.” Besides, she’d had to change the score too. The instrumental part Paige had written didn’t go with the new lyrics.

Hero strummed the first chord.

 _They say every cloud has a silver lining.  
_ _They say to look on the bright side of life.  
_ _They say tomorrow is another day.  
_ _Oh, it’s so true, all the things they say._

 _I think life is made of second chances.  
_ _I think life is only moments that you make.  
_ _I think life is choosing which times you try again.  
_ _Oh, I’m so glad this was one of them._

 _This is a day for remembering where you’ve come from.  
__This is a day for imagining where you’ll go.  
__This is a day for the story of your love in songs.  
__If this is part of that story, then it belongs._  

There were a few moments of silence following the last note. Hero hoped it was appreciative—it was more nerve-wracking than she’d thought it would be, singing her own song in front of an audience. Balthazar must be very brave, to do this sort of thing all the time.

She thought Balthazar, at least, must have liked it, because he was ducking his head, and when he looked up, his eyes were shining a little.

“Pedro didn’t write that,” he said. “No _way_ he wrote that. I mean, from what I’ve been hearing, Bea and Freddie took some liberties with their songs, but he at least signed off on, like, some version of them.”

“He signed off on a version of this one,” Hero said.

“A version with different words and different music,” John said.

“I kept to the same general theme.”

“You wrote a new song.”

“I polished it.”

“I’m not complaining. Pedro’s song was awful.”

“It’s a great song, Hero,” Balthazar said, pulling her in for another hug. “It was even better than the cookie. A real gift.”

Hero blushed a little.

“Yes, it was lovely,” said Jaquie, after a fairly charitable ten seconds. “But, like, he needs a clue?”

“Oh, right! Of course. So this is from the version Pedro signed off on. It’s supposed to be to music, but I guess I’ll just speak the words. ‘Every time I asked about your shows, you’d say it’s nothing big. The next stop on your trip is where you used to play your—”

“Gigs.” Balthazar smiled. “That really doesn’t rhyme. Also, that could be, like, one of any three places.”

“Eh, close enough,” Jaquie said, rolling her eyes. “Peter only had like three months to prepare for this, so obviously there wasn’t time to make sure everything actually rhymed. Help him out, Donaldson Number Two.”

John consulted his notes. “Uh, this is a little awkward. You remember the place you played the morning after the party here?”

Balthazar, Hero, and Bea groaned simultaneously. Jaquie’s exasperation appeared to be too large to be voiced.

“He didn’t,” Balthazar said.

“Of course he did,” John said.

“Okay, well. Then I guess we’re off to Vinyl,” Balthazar said, naming a local vintage record store.

“Wonderful. Now we know where we’re going.” Jaquie looked at Hero. “Coming?”

“Obviously. I’ll ride with Bea.” Hero set her ukulele down gently and grabbed her purse.

“Great. Let’s go, move it people.”

Jaquie shut the camcorder down and ushered everyone out of the room. She and Hero were the last two out.

“Thanks for changing the song,” Jaquie said under her breath.

“You saw the original?”

“I can guess.” Jaquie rolled her eyes.

Hero smiled. She’d always liked Jaquie.

***

Meg sighed impatiently. She’d been waiting at Vinyl _forever_. And the place was closed for the holiday, so it wasn’t like she could browse, or even pee in their freaking bathroom. Peter had promised Balthazar would be here by eight, and it was closing in on 8:30. She sat forlornly on the sidewalk, leaning up against the building and live tweeting her boredom to her 5,000 followers. Her Twitter had become surprisingly popular as her writing took off. Oh, well. She hoped a bunch of people she didn’t know and would never meet were at least slightly amused by her friends’ antics.

Finally she got the text from Hero that they were less than two minutes away, and she stood up and straightened her jacket. Pedro owed her big time for this one. They could have done this at the party tonight, at the Joneses’ nice, air-conditioned house. With _bathrooms_.

Meg couldn’t help but being amused, though, when three cars pulled up and a crush of humanity pooled out. She snapped a quick photograph to post to her Twitter account later and contemplated writing an article on overdone proposals – a whole series, maybe. She could even expand it to include things like prom proposals. Something to think about.

“Jaquie!” Meg yelled, as she saw her friend pop out of the car with John and Balthazar. “It’s been decades! Can you believe this wonderful, ridiculous moment has finally arrived?”

Jaquie gave Meg a quick hug, somehow managing to continue to film throughout. “I know. What are we going to Skype about now?”

“Oh, there will always be something with these people. How are you holding up?”

“The whole thing is hilarious. Everyone’s being really sappy, and no one is singing the right lyrics. I just wish there wasn’t this absolutely hysterical madman texting me about the schedule every two minutes.”

“Oh, wow. Donaldson’s totally losing it, huh?”

“You have no idea. I had to turn the ringer off. It stopped being amusing somewhere around Boyet’s.”

“This is like that night at Blue all over again! Remember that night? We were just trying to dance and Peter kept thinking Balthazar was breaking up with him because he wouldn’t answer his text messages?”

“I know, and then he dragged us out of there just as that guy with the, you know, the hair, was trying to get your number. And it turned out that Balthazar’s phone was like, in the kitchen or something.”

“That boy.”

“Right?”

“Um.” Balthazar piped up.

“Oh, right! Hey, Balthazar. Here. This is for you.” Meg shoved a record at him. “I don’t really know what it is. Some thingy Peter said you wanted forever.”

“Oh, wow. This is Fife & the Drums’ first EP. It’s like, ridiculously hard to find. I’ll have to add it to my stash back in the car.” Balthazar beamed.

“Stash?” Meg asked.

“Lover Boy got a white rose from The Bold and the Blonde over there.” Jaquie pointed at Bea, who scoffed. “Coffee from those two.” She indicated Kit and Freddie, who shrugged. “And a cookie from Princess.” She nodded to Hero, who smiled. “I made him leave it all in the car this time. It was starting to look ridiculous and I won’t have my video look ridiculous. Well, at least not in ways it’s not _supposed_ to.”

Meg nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Guys?” Balthazar said.

“Fine.” Meg shrugged. “Don’t want Pedro to have an aneurysm. Okay, Balthazar. Here we go.”

She did her best to nod at John without making eye contact with him. The music started, and Meg threw herself into the song. She would not be accused of lacking showmanship. She was a star.

 _I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but  
_ _You’re boyfriend’s a sap.  
_ _He has these ridiculous feelings  
_ _About fate and love and crap._

Meg shrugged her shoulders here, as if asking, _What can you do?_

 _But it’s really kind of sweet when  
__Looked at in a certain light.  
__So I just think I’ll quote some things he said  
__If that’s really quite all right._  

Balthazar raised an eyebrow, and Meg gave him an absolutely wicked grin before launching into the next verse.

 _One time, I heard him say that  
_ _"Balthazar’s a music god.”  
_ _One time, I heard him say,  
_ _“His music really makes me hot.”_

Now Balthazar was turning bright red, and Meg was loving it.

 _At one of your shows, he shushed a stranger,  
__Who was trying to sing along.  
__Once, I walked in on him weeping,  
__‘Cause you’d written him a song._  

 _So if you want to know why every  
_ _Word today has been in tune.  
_ _It’s because Pedro loves your music,  
_ _Because your music’s part of you._

Okay, she had to be at least a _little_ sincere and mushy. This was a proposal after all. Meg wasn’t made of stone.

 _Once upon a time, you did  
__Something like this for someone else.  
__So next up, go to where those idiots  
__Got together with your help._  

“Meg!” Balthazar sounded almost indignant, as she finished with a little flourish. “What did you do?”

“What?” Meg asked. “Listen, I’m not like the rest of you criminals. I didn’t change a word of the song. Paige and I wrote it, Peter saw it, I sang it.”

“Are you serious? Peter okayed this song?”

Meg shrugged. “What do you want from me, Balthazar? I promise. He saw it. He approved it.”

“But…” Balthazar sputtered. “He definitely didn’t, like, say those things, right? I mean, he wouldn’t just tell Paige that.”

“Oh, no! He definitely did. And he didn’t tell Paige. Paige asked me, and I asked around.”

“That’s… just… no?” Balthazar seemed to have lost the ability to speak, poor boy. He looked around at the group, apparently under the misguided impression that someone would back him up.

“He told Ben you were a music god in year 12,” Bea provided helpfully.

Jaquie smirked. “He told me that your music made him really hot like, two weeks after we met. He was pretty drunk at the time. But he definitely meant it. Haven’t you noticed the moony eyes?”

“What moony eyes?” Balthazar asked.

Jaquie mimicked the look Pedro got whenever Balthazar sang at Meg. Meg clasped her hands beneath her chin and widened her eyes right back.

“He… he does _not_.”

“Oh, Balthy. That blush is so becoming on you.” Meg grinned.

Hero spoke up. “I was the one who saw him hush a stranger at one of your gigs.”

“ _Rude_ ,” said Bea.

“It was sweet,” Hero said, pushing Bea away from her. “A little overzealous, maybe, but that’s just because he likes your music so much. He wanted to really hear it.”

“Yeah, and you remember that song you wrote for him while you were in Tokyo? The one you filmed for him and emailed to him? He called me crying after listening to it,” John said.

“You guys are all… I dunno,” Balthazar said. “You’re exaggerating.”

“And you’re pretty clueless, babe. But we love you anyway. So do you know where we’re off to next?” Meg asked, hip checking him gently.

Balthazar thought a moment, clearly still in a bit of a stupor from Meg’s song. “The park?”

“Right again,” John said.

“Excellent!” Jaquie said. “Let’s go. Everyone in the cars. Meg, you want to ride with me and take over Peter duty for a while?”

“Sure.” Meg shrugged. “Sounds like a blast.”

“Thank God.”

***

Ben was ready. This was his moment. Everything had been perfectly planned, and if all had gone as well as expected, he was fully prepared to recreate this amazing experience for Bea when she _finally_ let him propose after she finished her law degree.

It all felt full circle. He had been there for Balthazar and Pedro’s first tentative steps to a relationship, for their struggles to find each other at university, for their happiness for the past five years, and now, he would be there to see them promise to marry each other. There was little more he could have asked for.

Okay, but if he was going to ask for one thing, it would be that things were running a little more on schedule. It was almost nine, and the sun had set fifteen minutes ago. They were supposed to be back to their final destination by nine, and the others hadn’t even arrived here yet. Plus, it was hard to check his phone for updates while sitting in a tree. He couldn’t quite remember why he had decided he needed to be in a tree for his song. He thought it was somehow all caught up in the memories of that fateful night when he caught Peter on camera professing his love, via a half finished sonnet, to Balthazar. But a tree seemed right, somehow. Fitting. But it was super hard to juggle a cell phone, a flashlight, and Balthazar’s final gift in his hands and stay balanced on a tree. So it wasn’t too surprising that he’d missed the text from Bea saying that they had arrived.

“Ben!” Bea called from out in the darkness. Ben pointed his flashlight out into the park.

“Over here!” he yelled.

Suddenly he saw little bursts of light wandering over to him. It appeared that a few of them had found flashlights somewhere, presumably from the emergency kits in their cars, as Ben had done. The rest of them were using their cell phones to try to light a path to Ben’s tree.

“Benedick! You buffoon! Why are you in a _tree_?”

“I don’t think buffoons like trees, love. I’m pretty sure I’m more like a chimp, or something!” Ben called down to Bea.

“I have no idea why he’s in a tree,” Bea muttered to Balthazar, who laughed.

“Heya, Ben!” Balthazar called up.

“Hi, Balthy!” Ben waved wildly, almost falling.

“Ben! You DICK. Be careful!” Bea called out.

“I am! Don’t worry about me. Trees and I are old friends. Here, Balthy!” Ben tossed down the flower crown he’d been clutching for an hour now.

“Oh, wow.” Balthazar smiled. He put it on his head, and Jaquie zoomed in, grumbling under her breath about the lack of adequate lighting.

“So, Balthazar. This is the moment. The one you’ve been waiting for.” Ben grinned. He hoped Balthazar could see enough to appreciate his showmanship.

“Let’s keep this going, Benny Boy!” Meg yelled. “Pedro’s moved to texting every 30 seconds and half of them are just emojis at this point. Plus, I’m pretty sure this place closes after dark. If we end up in jail at the end of this thing, Pedro is going to be the least of your problems.”

“Right-o, Meggo!” Ben said. John hit a button on his phone and new instrumental music kicked in. Ben took a deep breath. He had tried to sing the song, he really had. But it hadn’t sounded quite _right_. He’d had to change a few things, and well, his voice wasn’t the best, but he figured he could kind of talk-sing his way through it. Besides, it was beautiful. It was heartfelt. It was _them_.

 _You may wonder why we’ve brought you here.  
__On your love story’s big day.  
__It’s for that story’s most important part:  
__The friends who helped along the way._  

“That’s not  _quite_ what this song is supposed to be about,” John muttered, squinting at his notes through the darkness.

 _There’s Bea, who introduced you,  
_ _A pretty big step, you’ll admit.  
_ _Freddie, who looked out for you,  
_ _And your favorite confidante, Kit._

“I mean, I was pretty vital to the process,” Bea said.

“How did Freddie look out for them?” Jaquie whispered to Meg, who shrugged.

 _There’s Hero, who rooted for you,  
__Meg, who, well, I’m not sure exactly what she did, but she says it was vital,  
__Jaquie watched every moment,  
__From the opening scene to the closing titles._  

“Oh, _please_ ,” Meg said loudly, as Ben glared at her. “If it were up to you, those two would still be dancing around each other at fifty paces away. I did _everything_.”

“And, I mean, I watched,” Jaquie nodded. “That’s true. But mostly, I mocked. I feel like that was really helpful to the process, and I want it noted for posterity.”

Ben gave them all a look and continued.

 _There’s John, who talked you through things,  
__Rosa, a sympathetic ear,  
__Chelsey’s bubbling with excitement,  
__Ursula wishes she were here._  

 _There’s Paige, who helped to write the songs  
__You’ve listened to today.  
__Although I admit I’ve taken a few liberties  
__With what she told me I should say._  

There was a collective group snort at that one.

 _But there’s none among the people  
__Who I’ve named who feels more bliss  
__Today than I — and I can prove it!  
__All I have to do is this..._  

And here, well, here Ben made a strategic error. He’d thought adding the Project Lovebirds sign would be a nice little ending touch, to remind Balthazar how far he and Pedro had come since they’d needed others to push them together. The problem, though, was that sitting in a tree, holding a flashlight and cell phone, wasn’t really conducive to making hand signs that required both hands. And letting go of the tree wasn’t really conducive to staying _in_ the tree. So that’s when he felt himself fall. He stuck out his arms to break his landing, and then heard a snap, screaming in pain.

“Ben!” Bea yelled, running over to him. “Oh, my god! Benedick! Say something! Are you okay?”

“I think,” Ben groaned. “I think I broke my arm.”

“Someone call an ambulance!” Kit yelled.

“I’m already on it,” said Freddie. Balthazar ran over to join Bea in trying to comfort Ben, while Jaquie awkwardly turned off the camera.

“Pedro’s going to _flip_ ,” muttered Meg to Jaquie. “I’d better call him.” She stepped away to make her call, while Jaquie took off her jacket to put under Ben’s head.

“You idiot,” Bea whispered, fighting back tears, one hand on his forehead.

“Ambulance is on the way!” Freddie yelled.

***

Peter ran into the hospital, looking around frantically for some sign of his friends. He didn’t see anyone immediately. He asked at the front desk about Benedick, but was told that he’d need to wait for family to arrive. He hoped someone had called Ben’s parents.

A little further through the emergency department, Peter found a small waiting room. There, among other waiting and fretting families, he found Balthazar fiddling with his phone. John was sitting next to him, idly flipping through an old magazine. Peter felt very out of place in his proposal suit—though he supposed there was a sense in which emergency departments were the great outfit equalizer. There was pretty much no choice but to come as you are.

He sighed, pushing his hands through his hair in frustration, and made his way over to his brother and boyfriend.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly, sitting down next to Balthazar. Balthazar looked over, and his creased brow relaxed as he smiled.

“Hey, you. I was wondering when you’d get here.”

“Sorry. Had to explain to many New Year’s Eve celebrants that our friend somehow managed to take a simple project and end up falling out of a tree.”

“Simple project, Pete?” Balthazar quirked an eyebrow. Peter looked away.

“Relatively simple.” Peter nodded to John. “Hey, bro.”

“Hey, Pedro.”

“Where is everyone?”

“Bea is back with Ben. I don’t know how she did it, because she’s not family, but she started using her lawyer talk, and they let her back. Hero too. I’m pretty sure she just smiled at them, and they let her through the door. Meg and Jaquie are looking for food and coffee. Kit and Freddie went for a walk. They’ll probably be back soon.”

“And how’s Benedick?” Peter asked. He was severely annoyed with Ben right now, but he was about equally worried.

Balthazar smiled. “He’ll be okay. Bea’s keeping us updated by text. His arm is broken in two places, and it will need a cast, but there’s no concussion or any other injuries. He’ll probably be set free in a few hours, and then I figure Bea’s gonna spend the next few weeks tearing her hair out, trying to figure out whether to coddle him or berate him. Or both at once.”

“I didn’t ask him to climb a tree, you know.”

“I figured.”

“No part of the original plan involved him being in a tree.”

Balthazar laughed. “I’ve been assured of that by many people now.”

Peter looked over at where John had been sitting, but his brother had quietly disappeared. Well, Peter could take a hint.

“Look, Balthy. This really isn’t how I wanted to do this. I had a whole plan. You may have noticed.”

“Kind of.” Balthazar reached for Peter’s hand.

“I just… I wanted this to be perfect for you. Because you deserve that. Perfection.”

“Wanted _what_ to be perfect for me, Pedro?” Balthazar asked, grinning the way he did when he and Peter were making fun of someone.

“You know.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t said it yet.”

“You and your _saying_ things.” But this was good, Peter realized. Balthazar was giving him an opening. Maybe the proposal was salvageable.

“I wrote you a song,” Peter said. “Let me sing it to you.” He looked around at the pale-green and white waiting room, with its flickering fluorescent lights and its strong smell of antiseptic. “Not… not here.”

Peter pulled Balthazar up out of his seat and led him through the emergency department, until they were just outside the doors, standing in the parking lot. Here, there were no fluorescent lights, but there _was_ tar-stained asphalt and ambient traffic noise.  “Oh, wow. This is so romantic. Just… ugh.” Peter shook his head.

“Pedro, look at me.” Balthazar cupped Peter’s face. “This is perfect. It’s… it’s you, and it’s me, and it’s our crazy friends, who love us so much that they drive nine hours and fly across oceans just to be here, who… who climb up into trees to put on a show for us, who film the whole thing and yell at us to keep on schedule, and who, I mean, Paige wrote all the music, right? And who work so hard to keep it a secret and a surprise even though they’re all terrible liars. And of course it ended up in the hospital parking lot. I mean, of _course_ it did. It’s perfect, because it’s so… it’s so us. Isn’t it?”

Peter laughed, and brought his hands up to grip Balthazar’s wrists. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“So do it here. In this parking lot, while Ben gets his arm fixed, and Bea yells at him or kisses him or whatever she’s doing, and Meg and Jaquie make fun of us, and John makes himself busy to give us some time alone, and.. and who else is here?

“Kit and Freddie,” Peter said.

“Right! Kit and Freddie. Kit and Freddie are probably making out somewhere. Do it here. Isn’t that better than doing it in the front hall of my parent’s house, with everyone gawking at us?”

“How did you know?”

“Meg gave up the plan pretty easily when it became clear we weren’t going to make it back there in time.”

“Okay, okay,” Peter took a deep breath and removed his hands from Balthazar’s wrists to reach for his phone. “I’m going to do this. In the parking lot. Of a hospital. On New Year’s Eve. Oh, god.”

Balthazar stroked his face affectionately. “I can promise you, this is probably going to work out pretty well for you.”

Peter smiled a little and pressed a button on his phone. Paige’s music played, and Peter began to sing.

 _I want to spend my life with you,_  
_That’s nothing new to me._  
_When I said, “I love you,” I meant that I’m all in._

 _Sometimes it seems inevitable,_  
_That we were meant to be._  
_But there’s endless ways we could’ve never been._

 _I wake up in the night, dreaming that I’m someone else,_  
_Someone who never said “I love you,”_  
_Someone who never heard it back._

 _What I’ve learned from my dreams, from all the ways we didn’t happen,_  
_Sometimes it’s not inevitable._  
_Sometimes you have to ask._

 _I want to spend my life with you,_  
_I learn that every day._  
_So Balthazar, will you spend your life with me?_

 _I wake up in the night, dreaming of who I’ll be tomorrow._  
_Will you let me be the man who’s next to you?_  
_Will you let me be the man I want to be?_

_Balthazar, will you spend your life with me?_

Balthazar was smiling widely by the time he was done, ducking his head and fiddling with his sleeves. When he looked up, Peter saw that he was crying a little, which broke Peter’s self-control, and started him crying as well. They did that for a little bit, and then Peter thought it was time to dry his eyes and get on with it.

He looked at the rather dingy ground beneath him and then glanced at his neatly pressed suit pants. Oh, well. That was what laundromats were for, he supposed. He got down on one knee and pulled out the ring box from his jacket pocket, flipping open the top to reveal a simple chrome ring, dotted with little onyx squares.

“Stanley Balthazar Jones. I am totally, completely, embarrassingly, madly in love with you. I can’t imagine a life without you in it, and I don’t want to ever imagine it. I know I’m ridiculous sometimes, and frustrating, and I come up with elaborate, over-the-top plans that get our friends maimed, but I’m hoping that you feel the same anyway. Will you marry me? Please?”

Balthazar laughed a little and knelt down next to Peter. “Yes. I will.” Peter grinned and buried his face in Balthazar’s shoulder. “On one condition.”

“What?” Peter pulled back. “I mean… anything. What is it?”

Balthazar reached into his own pocket and withdrew a very similar looking box, which he flipped open to reveal a simple chrome band. “I mean, yours is nicer than the one I picked, but you have to agree to marry me anyway.”

Peter looked stunned. “What? How did you… How long have you known?”

Balthazar smirked. “About the proposal? Since November, maybe? Way too many calls to random friends and relatives, Pete. Just, way too many. Plus, I _know_ you. Although, I’ll admit that I just thought it was going to happen at the party. I thought you and everyone were going to do some, like, big song and dance thing.  The scavenger hunt was a surprise. An amazing one. It was a really, really great proposal, up until Ben fell out of the tree.”

“So… you just bought me a ring, so you could propose right back?” Peter felt completely gobsmacked.

“This? Oh, no. I’ve had this since our fourth year at uni. I was just waiting, I guess. For the right time. I’d considered proposing a few months ago, but by then, I’d sorta cottoned on to your having a plan, and I didn’t want to ruin it. But it only seemed fair that I get to ask too.”

Peter laughed, and Balthazar kissed him. “So what do you say? I’m totally, fully, embarrassingly, madly, all of the other things, in love with you, Peter Adrian Donaldson. Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” They knelt there for at least a minute, just hugging. It was too good a moment to let go too soon.

“Cool,” Balthazar said. “Now can we get off the ground? I’m getting too old to kneel on asphalt.”

Peter reached out a hand, and they helped each other up, grinning widely.

A catcall echoed across the parking lot. They looked over to see Kit, Freddie, John, and Meg—the catcaller—standing just outside the hospital entrance with Jaquie, who was filming.

“Ben is going to be so pissed he missed this!” Freddie yelled, as the group dashed toward Peter and Balthazar to engulf them in hugs.

“It’s not a problem. I’ve got it all on film. Including every sappy word that came out of Donaldson’s mouth. I’ll make our little treeclimber a copy.” Jaquie flipped the camera around and spoke into the lens. “Take _that_ , Costa.”

**Author's Note:**

> The songs have rough melodies that I've worked out. If you want to know what they sound like:
> 
> Bea's song is kind of like a song you'd learn at camp; the melody is close to "Miss Mary Had a Tugboat."  
> Kit and Freddie's song is like "Oh Brother," but not, you know, depressing.  
> Hero's song is very sincere. Think like "The Rose," but quieter.  
> Meg's song has a Lily Allen vibe.  
> Ben's song has no melody to speak of.  
> Peter's song has a lot of unresolved chord progressions, until the very end.
> 
> \---
> 
> Obviously, with a proposal this excellent, the wedding's got to be even better. So be on the lookout for a sequel sometime in the near future.


End file.
